


There Is Another

by koganphrancis



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Gallavich, I keep some canon elements from S8, M/M, NO GAY JESUS!!!, No trip to the Bear Bar with Terror, Rating is for later chapters, Slow Burn, but no boob tattoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-07 19:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15914331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koganphrancis/pseuds/koganphrancis
Summary: A Gallavich fix it fic.  The world needs as many as we can get.





	1. Chapter 1

“Ian, somebody’s here asking for you!” Debbie yelled.

“Who is it?” Ian called back from the kitchen, where he literally had his hands full, trying to squeeze the water out of a can of tuna fish.

“How the hell should I know?”

“Could you come in here and finish making lunch, please?” Ian asked as he ran his hands under the faucet, trying to wash away the fish odor clinging to his hands.

“Gotta get Franny up from her nap,” Debs said, and Ian could hear her clomping up the front stairs from the kitchen. He bit his tongue and tried to remind himself that, despite being a mom to a toddler, she was a teenage girl and prone to immature brattiness still.

He sighed and took the pan of macaroni and cheese off the burner he had it warming on, placed it on a trivet, and shut off the stovetop.

Ian walked to the living room and saw a heavyset young woman standing awkwardly right inside the entryway, and noticed that standing next to her was...Yevgeny? No, not Yevgeny, this boy had jet black hair, although he had the same eyes and lips as Yev. A pang of guilt shot through Ian as he remembered just how long it had been since he had seen Yevgeny. He shook his head as if to clear it and took a closer look at the woman standing next to the child.

She too had black hair, but now Ian was close enough to see it was a dye job, probably done at home if he was any judge of these things. Her hair was dry and frizzy at the ends, and it looked like dark blonde roots were grown out by about an inch at the part on top of her head.

“Um, are you Ian Gallagher?” the mystery woman asked.

“I am…and you are?”

“Oh, you don’t know me, but do you remember Mickey Milkovich?” Ian’s eyes darted quickly to the boy at her side, then back to the woman. He nodded slowly. “Oh, good,” the woman said, letting out a big sigh. “Well, Mickey, he told me if I ever needed him but he wasn’t around, I should try getting in touch with his sister or his brother or you.” She held out a brown scrap of paper. Ian took it from her and looked down at it.

It seemed to have been torn from a grocery bag, and there was writing in pencil on it. Ian recognized Mickey’s messy boy printing immediately-the letters written in what Ian used to privately think of as Stay The Fuck Out font. He had to blink away a film of sudden tears that had sprung to his eyes to read the words.

Mickey had scrawled Mandy’s name and old cell phone number (that Ian knew for a fact wasn’t working anymore), Iggy’s name and a number, Ian’s name with just his address was third, and then scrawled across the bottom of the list it said: DO NOT GO TO MY FATHER EVER FOR ANYTHING. “Do not” was underlined five times.

“I, uh, I don’t have a phone, so I didn’t try calling Mandy or Iggy, but I went by their house and the place is all boarded up,” the woman continued, as Ian stared at the paper in his hand for quite a long time.

He finally looked back up at her at that comment, another pang of guilt stabbing through him. He hadn’t been past the Milkovich house in years-he’d go blocks out of his way to avoid it if he had to.

“Um, Mandy’s number’s no good anymore,” Ian said distractedly. “At least it wasn’t the last time I tried.” He dug his phone out of his back pocket. “You want to use this? Try calling Mandy or Iggy?”

She shrugged, but didn’t reach for the phone, so Ian said, “I’ll just give them a try, hold on.” He punched Mandy’s number into his phone, but got the same message he received the last time he tried it-the number was no longer in service, no other information available. He got the exact same message with Iggy’s number. Ian had put his phone on speaker, so the woman and the child heard the recorded messages too.

Ian realized that this woman was truly down to the last name on the list now, and if Mickey had said to come to him for help, the least Ian could do was try.

“Hey, I’m sorry I kept you standing here,” Ian said. “Won’t you please come in? Can I get you guys something? You thirsty? We’ve got juice boxes.” That last said to the little boy, who looked up at him with those blue eyes and raised eyebrows that looked just like…

“We don’t want to put you out none, but a drink would be nice,” the woman said.

“Yeah, come in, come in,” Ian said, waving them towards the couch. “What would you like? Water, pop, coffee? I could make some-or you could have a juice box too…”

“Water’s good.”

“Right, coming right up, be right back,” Ian babbled, hightailing it into the kitchen. When he returned, he handed the woman a bottle of water, and then out of habit from years of doing it for his younger siblings and now his niece, he peeled the straw off the juice box and poked it through the foil seal before handing it to the boy. When the kid reached out for the box, Ian noticed a very distinctive birthmark on the back of his hand.

Ian looked over at the woman and said, “Would you mind coming to the kitchen with me while I finish making lunch? My little brother’s upstairs cleaning his room, but he’ll be down soon looking for it.” The woman nodded and stood up.

“You wait here,” she said to the boy. He was sipping his juice and nodded obediently.

“Do you like to color, buddy? I think we have some old coloring books in the desk over here,” Ian said, as he walked over to the corner of the room. Sure enough in the drawer there were some busted up crayons in a paper cup and an old coloring book of Liam’s. Ian set them onto the coffee table and stared at the boy’s right hand as he picked up a green crayon. Ian led the woman to the kitchen and motioned her to take a seat at the table while he went back to the stove and put the mac and cheese back on to warm up. He forked the tuna from the can into the pot and then opened a can of peas, drained them, and put them into the mix as well. Then he dumped in a can of cream of mushroom soup. He stirred everything together, checked that the burner was set on low, and then covered the pan to let it all heat up for a while.

He finally sat down across from the woman, giving her a shy smile.

“So, how can I help?” he said.

“Well…” the woman took a deep breath, then plunged in. “I’m an old friend, I guess you’d say, of Mickey’s. My name’s Angie Zago, and I used to live around here.”

Ian blinked, and raised his eyebrows. Of course he knew about Angie, he could still here Mickey talking about her that day in the store, so long ago-before Mickey had even kissed him…

“Uh, so, a few years back, me and Mickey, well, we’d fool around here and there. I mean, most times when he came over, we’d just smoke weed, drink beer, and he’d watch tapes of my favorite show with me. I think he just liked getting out of his house, ya know? But, ah, sometimes, not too often, but every once in a while, well, only a coupla times we did it all the way really, we…fucked.”

Ian nodded, and pursed his lips. This he knew-not the details, but that it had happened.

“Um, so, the last time I saw him, he came over and we...ya know, fucked, and he had a condom in his wallet, but I guess it was old or whatever, cuz it broke when we were doin’ it. He said he’d buy me a morning after pill, but I told him not to worry, I was due to get my period any time then, I thought, and that there was no way I’d get pregnant having sex right then.”

Ian didn’t remember much from high school biology class, but he had heard his sisters having conversations like this-about when during their cycles they were most likely or least likely to get pregnant, and they seemed to be firm believers in the time right before and right after their periods they were “safe” too, so he just nodded.

“Well, so, he came pretty quick, so we spent the rest of the afternoon watching Vampire Diaries on tape till it was time for him to go to work.” Ian gave her a pained smile and nodded-shit, he remembered that day as if it were yesterday. “Did you watch that show? It’s my favorite.” Ian shook his head no, wondering if her show had anything to do with the story. “That night, after my foster dad got home, he went to watch a Cubs game he had taped, and he found out I had taped Vampire Diaries over it, and he punched me in the face-broke my nose.”

“Jesus,” Ian winced.

“It was totally worth it-fuck him, he was an old perv and was always finding reasons to hit me or fuck me. I hated his pruney old dick-uh, anyway, for once I knew why he was hitting me, and for once it was for something I had done to make myself happy. But, uh, with the pain from the broken nose and how high I stayed for a couple weeks while it healed, I totally lost track of the fact that my period never came, you know?”

Oh, Ian thought.

“And then when I figured out I was preggers, I had no idea when it had happened, and about a dozen different guys, including my foster dad, could’ve been the father, so I figured I’d wait it out and see what the kid looked like. When he was so white and with them blue eyes, I was pretty sure Mickey was the dad.”

“Uh-huh,” Ian choked out.

“And, well, I had always been kinda chubby, so I was able to hide the pregnancy the whole time-my foster dad would’ve made me get an abortion for sure. My foster mom figured it out-she got suspicious when I started refusing to have sex with my foster dad, and that skank called DCS and got me put into a group home, probably so she could get another girl in there to handle her wifely duties for her. But, anyway, there were so many of us there I could really hide the fact I was gonna have a baby, and I ran away after I gave birth to him in the rec room one night, and started living in shelters instead of being in the child welfare program. I named him Ian Damon, for my favorite actor and his character on Diaries,” she smiled.

Ian’s head was spinning. “He’s Ian too?” he heard his voice say from what sounded like very far away. He got up and went to the stove to check on the lunch. Luckily it hadn’t burnt to the bottom of the pan but it had started to stick, he should’ve been stirring it more.

“Yup-you should see Ian Somerhalder, he’s sexy as fuck,” she grinned.

“So, about you needing my help?” he said gently.

The smile fell from her face. “Yeah, about that-do you have any way to get in touch with Mickey? I know he busted out of jail and no one’s heard from him since, from what I could find out.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any information on him either,” Ian said, returning to the table. On the way there, he glanced back into the living room and saw that young Ian was still busy coloring. “Uh, I might have one person I could ask, but I honestly don’t know if they have a way to get ahold of him either. I would say don’t get your hopes up, you know?”

Angie looked even more crestfallen. “It’s just-I gotta find someone to take the kid.”

Ian drew in a sharp breath. He bit his lip and hoped she’d go on without him having to pry.

“I’ve been living in Detroit-it’s a real shithole, worse than here, but I’ve got a friend who I’ve known for a couple years, we met in one of the women’s shelters. She’s got a job, well, hookin’, but she got into a house and there’s a madam who runs it and keeps the girls safe and lets you live there and everything. And she doesn’t mind big girls-she has clients that want them, that’s why my friend thought of me-and the only thing is, I can’t have a kid there. I mean, I wouldn’t want him to grow up there anyway, but I don’t want to put him into the foster system. I got put there when I was six and that’s the first time I got molested-I don’t want that life for him.”

Ian’s heart went out to her, and he couldn’t help but think how narrowly he and his siblings had escaped a version of that fate as well. He one hundred percent agreed that Mickey’s son shouldn’t be put into the system.

“You were going to…give him to Mickey? To raise?” Ian asked.

“Yeah,” Angie sighed. “If he’d take him. Now I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do. I ain’t got no Plan B, ya know?”

Ian gnawed on the cuticle of his thumb for a moment, thinking. He knew he owed Mickey and this innocent kid something, if only the mother would go along with it.

“How would you feel about…letting me adopt him? If we can’t get ahold of Mickey? Would that be okay?” Ian asked, knowing he was being impulsive, and already hearing Fiona and Lip’s reactions in his head. He wouldn’t listen though-he had listened to them before when it came to his life and Mickey’s place in it, and he had wound up miserable and alone.

“Holy shit, you’d do that? “ Angie said, looking at Ian like she wanted to believe him, but it seemed too good to be true. “He could live here, with you?” Angie looked around the kitchen like it was some set on the Price Is Right or something, not the rundown near-dump that it was. “If my kid could live in an actual house? With good people? Yeah, I’d be okay with that.” She looked out towards the living room, even though she couldn’t see her child from where she sat. “But, um, you know what you’re getting yourself into? This would be forever-I’m not coming back here, ever. He was easy enough to take care of as a baby, but now he’s old enough to be going to school, and school means paperwork and questions, and they’d take him from me for sure. I already know I gotta let him go, and I’ll miss him, he’s a sweet boy, but boys grow up and I’m just not mom material, ya know?”

“I admire you for being able to admit it,” Ian said, thinking of Debbie and her stubborn insistence to have a baby and then spend the time since looking for people to take care of it for her-she even let Frank babysit for fuck’s sake.

“Hey, do you guys want lunch? We’ve got plenty,” Ian said. “It’s not much, just mac and cheese with some cream of mushroom soup and tuna and peas in it-we call it Tuna Shit Surprise.”

“Ian will love it-he’s not a picky eater at all. He’s a good kid, you’ll see.” It was important to Angie that Ian liked her kid. She knew she wasn’t much of a mom and didn’t have natural motherly instincts, but she wanted both Ians to be happy with the situation they seemed to be jumping into.

The kid ate up big at lunch, and also had two tall glasses of milk. Ian couldn’t take his eyes off the boy. With his hair sticking up in all directions and his holey clothes and busted out sneakers, he was the spitting image of Mickey during their Little League days. No question this was Mickey’s son.

“Do you have a place to stay while you’re in Chicago?” Ian asked after they ate. Angie insisted on doing the dishes, and had her Ian help her by drying them.

“Oh, not really,” she said. “Was kinda hoping on one of the Milkoviches letting me crash with them, if I found them.”

“No problem,” Ian said. “You can stay here.” He had hoped he’d be able to talk to Fiona and Lip about everything first, before presenting the kid to them as a new member of the family, but oh well. The sooner everyone got used to the reality, the better. He supposed he could run over to Fiona’s apartment building and try to catch her there, but there was someone else he had to see first.

“Hey, Angie, do you mind if I take a picture of Ian? I think we have a Polaroid camera here somewhere,” Ian asked.

“Of course you can take a picture of him,” she said.

Ian ran upstairs and rifled through Carl’s stuff till he found the camera and a pack of film. Ian shuddered to think why Carl had brought it home from a second hand store to begin with, but now wasn’t the time to worry about it again. Ian went back downstairs and asked the younger Ian if he could take his picture.

“Sure!” the kid said, his eyes lighting up. Ian gave him a warm smile. The kid was adorable in his own right, and the fact that he smiled just like Mickey was icing on the cake.

Ian took a picture of the boy standing in front of the couch, then got another idea. “Hey, how about one of you coloring? I can take it from above, like an overhead shot or whatever.”

“Okay!” The kid kneeled down in front of the coffee table like he had before and started to color. “You up high enough?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” Ian laughed, and snapped the picture. They watched as the pictures developed-Ian had placed them down on the coffee table when the camera spit them out.

“They look good,” the younger Ian said, smiling.

“They sure do, buddy, you make a great model,” Ian told him. “Okay, guys, I gotta go out, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Debbie!” he yelled. Debbie came clomping back down the stairs. She hadn’t eaten with Liam and Ian and the unexpected guests-she was a vegan now and rarely deigned to eat with the family.

“What?” she said, blowing on her nails, which she had been painting when Ian called her.

“Could you please take care of our guests for a while? I’ve gotta go out, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. This is Angie and her son Ian. They’re going to be staying here a while, in my room. Maybe you could show them where that is?”

“Ugh, fine,” Debbie said in an aggravated tone. “Come on, it’s up here.” She started clomping back up the stairs again.

“Don’t worry, she’s nicer than she seems,” Ian reassured Angie and her son. “And I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“Take your time. We were on a bus all night from Detroit, I’m sure we could both use a nap,” Angie said, and her son nodded.

Ian rushed to where he was going anyway, the photos in his hoodie pocket, one hand staying on them, making sure they didn’t fall out. He hoped the person he needed to see was where he thought they’d be.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Ian opened the door to The Alibi and plunged into the gloom. He hadn’t been in the place in he couldn’t remember how long-he knew the place had too many memories for it to be considered safe.

The person he had come to see was at the bar, but he could tell from the doorway she wasn’t happy to see him.

“The fuck you want?” Svetlana said, before Ian had even stepped up to the bar.

“Svetlana, believe me, I wouldn’t be troubling you unless it was really important.” Ian was actually trembling, it had belatedly occurred to him that not only was he Svetlana’s least favorite person, but also the fact that what he had to tell her would probably knock her for a loop in a bad way. He licked his lips nervously, leant over the bar and said in a quiet voice, “Do you know how to get in touch with Mickey?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and looked like she was thinking murderous thoughts. Ian gulped, but tried again.

“There’s something he needs to know-something I just found out today. Can you get him a message?” Ian whispered, desperation in every syllable.

“What is so important-after all this time,” Svetlana said pointedly, wanting the last part to hurt. Ian had abandoned Mickey and worse than that, had abandoned Yevgeny. As far as Svetlana was concerned, Ian Gallagher could rot in hell.

“Svetlana, please, I’m begging you-I’m sorry for never seeing Yev, and you…”

“I seem to remember the last time I asked you for anything, I had to pay you fifty dollars cash.”

Ian hung his head guiltily.

“And then when piece of shit husband broke out of jail, does he come find his own son? No, he chases your stupid dick like always, and you let him down-like always.”

Ian’s head snapped back up at that. If she knew all that…

“You have been in touch with him!” Ian whisper-yelled.

“And I know you are bigger piece of shit than he ever was-why should I help you?”

Ian knew he had to come completely clean if he had any shred of hope of getting Svetlana’s help in the matter.

“Svetlana, he…he has another son,” Ian said quickly, ripping of the band-aid.

“Gay husband with another son? You gave birth?” She rolled her eyes.

Ian dragged his hand out of his hoodie pocket and placed the pictures down on the bar. Svetlana sniffed and glanced at them, then her spine straightened stiffly and she reached under the bar and pulled out a pair of glasses. She put them on and picked up the pictures, examining them closely.

“He looks close to Yevgeny’s age,” she observed, staring at the picture of Ian in front of the couch, gauging his relative height from what she remembered from being in the Gallagher living room in the past.

“Uh, yeah,” Ian said, doing some quick calculations in his head. Mickey had gone into Angie’s house the same day Ned had come to the store and took Ian to a bar after and that was the day Ian stopped seeing Ned. They robbed his house a few weeks later, and Ian and Mickey got caught by Terry right after. So…”He’s probably about six weeks older than Yev? If you both carried the babies to term?”

Svetlana shifted her scrutiny to the other picture. She pursed her lips when she saw the birthmark on the back of the boy’s hand. “Is really his son, isn’t it,” she said, her voice making it sound like a statement, not a question.

“I’d have to say so, yeah,” Ian said. “He looks just like Mickey did in Little League.”

“He looks just like Yevgeny today, with dark hair.”

Ian felt guilty as all hell that he didn’t know that for himself-the last time he had seen Yev was at the prison, despite the fact that he’d been living two doors down from Ian’s house for some time now, with Kev and Vee and Svetlana.

“So…can you do it? Do you have a way to let Mickey know about this? The mom, she can’t take care of him anymore. She’s uh, she’s going to leave him with me.” Ian said, not having the slightest idea how Svetlana would take the news.

“I have a way, but it takes time,” she said, noting the way Ian’s eyes lit up. “He has mailbox. He sends me stuff from there sometimes, sometimes I send stuff to him. He told me that it’s not in the town he lives in, it’s nowhere near it. He only checks it when he’s passing through. Since he’s been gone I’ve only heard from him four, maybe five times. First time was about a week after he broke out, he sent money for Yevgeny-five thousand dollars cash. American.”

Ian swallowed hard at that. He had given Mickey his life savings at the border, all five thousand three hundred dollars of it. Leave it to Mickey to only hang on to three hundred when he had no place to live, no plan in place. Ian supposed he should be happy Mickey kept any of it for himself.

“Is he okay? Does he tell you stuff?” Ian couldn’t help but ask.

Svetlana narrowed her eyes at him again. “If he wants you to know anything, he can tell you. What do you want me to tell him?”

Ian couldn’t imagine Svetlana relaying any message from him without making it sound cold and hard, so he looked around the bar area. “Do you have anything I can write on? I’ll just put a note with the pictures…”

“I’m not giving you address,” Svetlana said.

“No! I don’t expect you to-you can mail it, just, please, Svetlana, let me write it,” he pleaded.

She flipped an order pad and a pencil at him. “Keep it short.” She walked away to give him some space, at least. The bar was dead in the early afternoon but she went to the couple of tables that had reprobate occupants anyway.

Ian stared at the paper for a minute, wondering how to say what he needed to. He finally started writing.

“Angie Z came to my house because you told her I would help her if she needed it. She has a son and we’re pretty sure he’s your son too. (See pictures) She can’t take care of him anymore so I’m going to. Let Svetlana know if” here Ian paused. If what? “you want to know anything about him, or anything." It was lame as fuck, but Ian didn’t know what else to say without hurting Mickey-“if you want to be part of his life” was too cruel to say since Mickey had to stay away.

Ian caught Svetlana’s eye and she came back to the bar. He pushed the note and the pictures across to her.

“Thanks, for helping with this,” Ian said. Svetlana didn’t reply. Ian chewed his lip, not knowing if he should try to say anything else. He figured he was at her mercy now-if she heard anything from Mickey, he just had to hope she’d tell him. “Well, bye,” he muttered, and turned to leave.

“You bring boy to meet Yevgeny,” Svetlana said before Ian had taken more than three steps. “You get him settled in, but then come see us at Veronica’s.”

Ian turned around, his eyes huge as he looked at Svetlana. “Really? You sure?”

“Of course. We won’t tell them they are brothers, but they should meet, maybe be friends for each other.”

Ian nodded. “Sure. This is going to be an adjustment for Ian, it’ll be good if he has a friend his own age.”

“Ian? Mickey’s son is named after you?” Svetlana gave him another suspicion-filled look.

“Uh, no-for some actor on TV that the mother is a fan of.”

“Ah, Vampire Diaries, yes? I know this show.”

Ian nodded.

“That’s the one,” he said. “Um, thanks again-I’ll let Vee know when we’ll be over.”

Ian was drained after dealing with Svetlana-and hearing there was a possibility to get in touch with Mickey-so rather than trying to find Fiona, he went straight home. Angie and her son were sleeping in his room, so he quietly went up to the attic to search out any of Liam’s old clothes that might fit Ian. Fiona found him doing laundry in the kitchen when she got home, and Lip came in soon after. Ian sat them down at the table and told them the news.

“Are you fucking out of your mind?” Lip asked him, his eyes bugging out even more than usual.

Ian rolled his eyes. “No, Lip, I’m not. A kid needs my help and I’m in a position to give it.”

“Ian, there are agencies set up to help…” Fiona began.

“Save it, Fiona-we all know what happens to most kids that get put into the system. I’m sure there’s a few that don’t have a shit life, but there can’t be many-DCS let you keep Liam, after all,” Ian said. “Staying here was deemed safer for him when he was a toddler than going into the care of strangers.”

“Hey, why are you throwing that in my face again?” Fiona said, insulted and hurt.

“Because it’s a thing that happened. I’m not trying to be cruel, but you guys questioning my ability to take care of a child…” Ian stopped himself before he got too worked up. His siblings never showed any faith in him.

“Does the mother know you’re bipolar?” Lip said.

Ian shook his head and sighed. “Fuck you, Lip-I’m a person being treated for bipolar disorder. I’m on meds, I go to therapy, I have a job.”

“You’re just taking in this kid because you believe he’s Mickey’s,” Lip said, a sneer in his voice.

“And what of it? Do you have any idea what I owe Mickey? What I wouldn’t do for him? And I don’t just ‘believe’ he’s Mickey’s-wait till you see him, you’ll know he is. He’s the spitting image of Mickey as a kid, plus he looks just like Yevgeny, plus he has a birthmark on the back of his hand exactly like Mick’s.”

“Birthmarks aren’t hereditary,” Lip said.

“But they do have a genetic component, and lots of times people in the same families have the same types,” Ian shot back. “I’ve had to take my fair share of biology and anatomy courses, Lip.”

“Guys, I think we’re gettin’ off track here,” Fiona interjected. “Ian, please, think about your life, about how good you’re doin’. Taking care of a kid is a huge responsibility; it’ll consume your whole life...”

“Fiona,” Ian said, through gritted teeth, “save it. If you’re about to tell me this child will set a match to my ‘so much better without Mickey life’ I will move out and never come back. As a matter of fact, that’s what I should probably do anyway. I don’t need you two looking down on me and acting like I’ve made a bad decision for the rest of my life.”

“Ian, quit being such a drama queen,” Lip snorted. Ian glared at him. Lip rolled his eyes back.

“Ian, think about it,” Fiona said, grabbing one of Ian’s with both of hers on top of the kitchen table. “Raising a kid takes a lot-a lot of time, and, if you’re lucky, a lot of people. We’re all here, we could watch the kid when you need us to…”

“You’re actually capitulating to his threat to move out?” Lip yelled. Ian shushed him.

“Keep it down, they’re sleeping upstairs,” Ian hissed.

“Lip,” Fiona began, then sighed. “Life happens, okay? Yeah, this is sudden. Yeah, I wish Ian would take more time to think about it-but on the other hand, if he had knocked up some chick and a baby got dumped on us that way, we wouldn’t go at him like this about it. We’d do what we always do: suck it up and keep on goin’.”

Lip rolled his eyes again. “I don’t believe…”

“And if you had come home with Karen’s baby, we would’ve done it for you,” Fi said, cutting him off without having to raise her voice. “And you would’ve fuckin’ expected us to.” Lip glared for another moment, but then gave a slight nod. It was true, and he had to admit as much.

When Ian brought Angie and Ian downstairs for dinner, Fiona and Lip exchanged a look. No doubt this kid was a Milkovich. Lip had been thinking about suggesting a paternity test, figuring they could even pay Svetlana to let them do a cheek swab on Yevgeny if they had to, but now he saw it wasn’t necessary. This was his brother’s lover’s son. Holy shit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now you know where Ian went running off to :) And as I said before, I had this idea and had written this part before Lip took Xan in on the show. I wish we could've seen his siblings' reaction to doing so-especially Fiona since she was so adamant against Debbie bringing another child into the house, but Shamey is always too busy making sure we get plenty of Frank having sex content to bother with interpersonal scenes anymore, I guess. (and btw I agreed with Fiona about Debbie not having a baby-she was too young and went about it all wrong)
> 
> And another note I forgot to put on Chapter 1-I have never seen The Vampire Diaries and that Ian dude does nothing for me, but I really wanted Mickey's son to be named Ian.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Ian took the day off from work and he and Angie went to Legal Aid to find out about adoption and whatever else they might need to take care of so Ian could be the boy’s legal guardian. Angie had her son’s birth certificate, social security card, and immunization record, plus her own birth certificate, social security card, and driver’s license. It was all the proof she had that either of them actually existed, but Ian was impressed she had taken the trouble to keep track of all of it. He knew none of his parents-including Frank in that category-wouldn’t have been able to tell him where any of his documentation was at any given point in his life.

They were being advised by a young, earnest lawyer fresh out of law school. He had grown up in the Bronx, so, not South Side but roughly the same vibe. Angie and Ian liked him right off the bat. He didn’t look on them as charity cases and he didn’t bat an eye at their reason for being there.

“Okay, Ms. Zago,” he said, once he had heard their story. “You want to give up all parental rights to the child and have Mr. Gallagher adopt him. Sounds straightforward enough. I see here it says ‘father unknown’ on the birth certificate-do you have any reason to believe the birth father might come forward and contest custody?”

“Uh, no, sir,” Angie said, wondering if she should add the birth father had no idea the kid existed. “Um, since the birth certificate does say that, would it be easier if I just said Ian here is the father and give him custody that way?”

The lawyer glanced around at the other half-wall cubicles where other lawyers were meeting with clients and then leaned over his little desk and waved Angie and Ian closer. They leaned towards him together to hear him say quietly, “You didn’t hear it from me, but, yes, that would be the quickest, easiest way to transfer custody.”

Ian shook his head adamantly. “No way-I want Mi…the real father to be able to claim him, if he ever wants custody. I would give him over willingly. Besides,” he added, turning towards Angie, “I don’t want to confuse Ian-I want to tell him about his real dad, even if he doesn’t ever get to meet him.” She nodded in agreement.

It would take a few weeks before everything was official and Angie had to get back to Detroit to start her new job. She signed everything that needed to be signed and left her son with Ian.

“Do you want me to let you know if I hear from Mickey?” Ian asked her as he drove her to the bus station. She was still sniffling a little from saying goodbye to her Ian. It had been harder than she thought. She always knew she could never keep him, and she was thankful as hell Mickey had unknowingly left her a way to help her find a good home for him, but when all was said and done, it wasn’t easy to say goodbye to this little person who had been part of her life for the past five years.

She thought about Ian’s question, then shook her head no. “I think it’ll be easier to close this chapter of my life right here. If we knew for sure I could talk to Mickey soon, maybe it’d be different, but it is what it is, as they say.”

“Yeah,” Ian said, sighing. He still didn’t know if Mickey would contact anyone, even Svetlana, about the boy. Svetlana had said she had heard from Mickey maybe four or five times since he left, and that was more than a year ago now. So at best he probably got to that mailbox every two or three months, but it could be even longer than that.

At the bus depot Ian asked, “Let me know when you get settled? Oh, and when you get a phone-let me give you my number…” Ian began searching his pockets for a scrap of paper and something to write with, even though he didn’t have a pen on him except when he was working.

“Ian…no. I’m sorry, but I really gotta do a clean break here. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to dump all this responsibility on you, but I know deep down, that kid is better off without me. If he’s ever too much for you, I wouldn’t blame you at all if you had to let him go into the system, or if you get him adopted by another family…”

“I won’t,” Ian stated firmly, his jaw jutting out stubbornly.

“Okay, but I’m just saying ‘IF’-I won’t judge you, I won’t hold it against you-hell, I won’t even know. But, like, do you judge me for giving him away?” Her voice got quiet and wavered on that last sentence. Ian pulled her into a hug.

“I don’t,” Ian said firmly, giving her a squeeze. “You did your best for as long as you could, and I know that if you had the means to keep raising him, you’d do it. It’s not anyone’s fault life is so damn hard.” He hugged her again and then stepped back. “And you’ve given me something I never thought I’d have the chance to do-bring up a child who needs and deserves a loving home. I promise you he’ll get that.”

Angie’s eyes welled up again. “Mickey was right about you.”

The loudspeaker called last call for the bus to Detroit and she had to hurry off. Ian wanted to ask her what she meant-Mickey was right about going to Ian for help? Or had he said other things to her about Ian when they were together? Ian realized he would never know as he watched her get swallowed up with the other last minute passengers hurrying for the bus.

When Ian got home, the house was dark and quiet. Angie had taken a late bus so now everyone was asleep in the house. He checked in on Ian, sound asleep in his old bed, sharing a room with Liam for now-Carl was away at military school. If the boy decided he wanted a room of his own, Ian would move back in with his brothers and let the kid have his single room, but he figured for tonight, young Ian might want to have someone else sleeping in the same room since his mom was gone.

Ian took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, and got into bed. He couldn’t close his eyes and fall asleep, there was too much on his mind. For the first time since leaving Mickey at the border though, he felt like he had made the right decision setting out on this unexpected path in his life. It was a far cry from the mess he was when he came home over a year ago to the chaos of Monica’s unexpected death and the fact that no one had even noticed Ian was gone.

He was a complete wreck when he got back, he thought he understood that much at the time, but he had since learned enough to know he was in a far worse place than he realized when he was in the thick of it. He came home and tried to jam himself back into a rigid lifestyle that had never worked for him to begin with, starting from his diagnosis and his original break up with Mickey.

The life Fiona thought Mickey would set a match to? It was all a façade built on a foundation of lies. But Ian wasn’t willing to admit that then, and he jumped right back into all his routines-or at least tried to. There was work, which he did like but he realized soon after his return was not fulfilling him the way he had always hoped it would. He kept waiting for something to click into place, to make him find it as enriching as he had always dreamed the army would be.

Then there was his family, up to all their same destructive shit. Looking back now, he couldn’t believe he went along with the scheme to let Carl sell Monica’s meth. And not just because they had almost gotten killed by the true owner of the shit-Ian’s job was to save lives, for fuck’s sake, not to deal poison to people who could get killed or kill or hurt others while on it. To give Fiona some credit, she wanted no part of the meth, but in the end even she hadn’t flushed or truly gotten rid of her share, so, her looking down on Mickey wasn’t fair.

And then there was Trevor-a mistake Ian regretted more than most of his others. He never wanted to hurt the guy, but on the other hand, he had never wanted to be in a sexual relationship with him either. He had just wanted a friend, but Trevor didn’t want that and Ian didn’t understand he had the right to say no, or walk away, or put himself first. And he still didn’t understand that when he got back. He made a half-hearted effort to get Trevor back, but after Ian had been back a few months, asking Trevor out constantly despite being turned down every time, one night Trev sat him down at the kitchen table and they had their one and only honest conversation in their entire relationship.

“Ian, you keep asking me to go out with you again, and I keep telling you no-you really expect me to believe you don’t know why?”

“But I really don’t,” Ian had said (lied), disappointed when he realized Trevor hadn’t agreed to come over to have sex with him.

“Cards on the table-if Mickey were to come through that door right now,” Trevor pointed to the kitchen door, “and no matter how long he was back for-one hour or the rest of his life-would you take him over me?”

Ian stared at the door for a few moments as if it might actually open and reveal Mickey standing there. He finally looked back at Trevor.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Ian said, sounding miserable.

“I want you to say the truth! Jesus, Ian, we both know what the answer is-it’s what you already did the last time he came back into your life! And that’s why I can’t be with you-I can’t be with someone who would put anyone else before me. I can’t live with that hanging over my head.”

“Even if I can promise you Mickey would never want me back, after all the shit I put him through?” Ian said.

“Can you really speak for him?” Trevor spit out. “No, I’m sorry, but just knowing you would go with him if he’d take you back…I’m not going to be your second choice.”

Ian had to keep from rolling his eyes. Trevor had never, not once, been his first choice, but more than that, Ian had never been Trevor’s first choice. Ian knew that Trevor was always about keeping Trevor first and foremost-everyone came second to him. He liked to come off as altruistic and self-sacrificing, working with at-risk kids, and he did some good work there, Ian gave him full credit, but at the end of the day, Trevor could lock up his office and drive home and leave them. And maybe Ian would be better off if he could let go like that too, but it wasn’t in him to be like that. He couldn’t shut off caring about people he knew and was trying to help.

Trevor walked out of his life that night and Ian was actually more relieved than anything-about that. The rest of his life was a disappointing mess, however, so he finally did what Gallaghers didn’t do-he went to therapy.

It took him a few tries to find a therapist he trusted, and at first he only talked about himself and his family (which kept them busy enough for many, many sessions), then he started opening up about relationships, but kept it about Trevor and Caleb after a few intense visits that had revolved around his first sexual experience and then his affair with Kash. “Affair” was Ian’s word-the therapist had to work long and hard to get Ian to admit it was an unhealthy, unbalanced situation of an adult taking advantage of a minor.

Ian had touched on the time he was manic and the men he had gone through when he was in the army, skipped talking about Mickey altogether, and talked a little bit about Caleb, and a little more about Trevor.

He came to realize he had picked both of them because he knew they wouldn’t pay too close attention to him-there were no stakes to worry about because either one of them could walk out of his life and he wouldn’t care, or miss them, or be hurt. He only wanted Trevor back because he was too lazy to start at square one with another meaningless guy. With Trevor he already knew what he had, what he was in for, and it was just easier to stick with that than find another person that he wasn’t going to be attached to.

In talking it out, he realized he had never, ever been completely honest with Trevor about anything. Lying to him was easier than ever trying to be heard, so Ian would just say whatever he thought Trevor would want to hear-or accept-rather than try to make Trevor see the “real” him.

“I told him I didn’t bottom, the first time we were about to have sex,” Ian admitted to his therapist, who at this point knew about his entire sexual history (with the exception of Mickey) and knew for a fact Ian had bottomed for all his lovers (Mickey included, even though he wasn’t on the “official” list). “I didn’t want to have sex with him at all-we had gotten to that point too quickly for a stupid reason-and when he said he wouldn’t bottom I thought I had an easy out, and I took it.”

“Did you ever wind up telling him the truth?” the therapist had asked.

“No. It would’ve just set him off into a lecture and when it was all over we’d be where we were anyway. It was like that all the time-he never listened to me. Not about my mother, or my family, or…or anything. I could say anything and he would just talk over me till I gave in, so I cut out the exhausting part and gave in first, pretty much from the start.” Ian had admitted.

When Ian had finally opened up about Mickey to his therapist, it was like a tumbler finally falling into place and opening up a lock. She finally began to understand where Ian was coming from on all levels when he talked about his life. After Ian admitted he was still in love with Mickey, and probably always would be, the therapist asked, “What would you say to him if you could talk to him right now?”

“I’d tell him I’m sorry,” Ian had answered, with no hesitation. “I’m sorry for every shitty, hurtful thing I did to him or that got done to him because of me.”

The therapist worked with Ian for weeks to get him to realize that not everything that went badly was Ian’s fault. Mickey’s father, being who he was, would’ve most likely treated Mickey the way he had no matter who Mickey was with-or Mickey would’ve stayed in the closet forever and never would’ve had what he had with Ian.

“Do you think Mickey loved you?” the therapist had asked, early on.

“Yeah,” Ian admitted, looking down at his hands. “I wasn’t as sure when I was younger, but even then I knew-and all the stuff he did for me…I know that was love, and I should’ve thanked him and told him I love him back then even if I didn’t think he wanted to hear it. He probably did. Probably needed to.”

“Why do you think you didn’t go with him when he wanted you to?” she probed gently.

Ian sighed deeply. “It came down to the same reason I broke up with him when I got diagnosed, I guess. I didn’t want him to spend the rest of his life having to take care of me.”

“Don’t you think that should’ve been his decision to make?”

Ian shook his head. “Half the time I think that-that I should’ve been honest at the border and told him what was scaring me. But then he would’ve stepped up, don’t you see? Whether he wanted to or not, because that’s what Mickey does for the people he lets in, the people he…loves. He does whatever he can for them, forgetting himself and sacrificing himself. I couldn’t make him do that again for me. So I made up some lame bullshit that made it sound like his life wasn’t good enough for me, that I had changed and needed something else. I didn’t want to hurt him like that, but I knew it was the only way he’d let me go. If I gave him one hint that I really wanted him, he would’ve found a way to come back here and risked his freedom and his whole life. I know that about him.”

Ian went through a lot of tissues during those weeks. He had never cried talking about his family or his other relationships, but for Mickey, he shed tears.

Now his therapist was supportive of his decision to adopt Mickey’s son. She wished he had more time to consider all the possible ramifications, but she’s been doing her job for over thirty years and she knew for a certainty that life doesn’t wait for you to be ready for what’s coming. That’s sort of the point of therapy, to be able to catch up to all the stuff that’s been thrust onto you.

Ian was glad he had someone neutral to talk to about taking the boy in. Well, not neutral exactly-he knew his therapist would’ve pointed it out to him if she thought he was biting off more than he could chew. Her reassurance that his reasons for wanting to raise Ian and that his ability to do so were solid went a long way in boosting his confidence.

“Trust your instincts, Ian,” she told him. “You’re a good person and you’ll raise him to be one too. Give him love and someone he can count on-that’s all most people need in life.”

 

The day the adoption was official, both Ians went to family court and the judge asked the boy, on the record, if he wanted Ian to be his legal guardian. Ian broke into a smile so much like Mickey’s that the older Ian lost his ability to breathe for a few heartbeats.

“I would love that, sir,” the kid replied respectfully.

Ian had discussed changing his name with him beforehand, making sure he didn’t mind having new middle and last names. When he told him he wanted to change his middle name to his “best friend’s” name, the boy wanted to meet him.

“Oh, uh, he lives far away,” Ian said, mentally kicking himself for not foreseeing this. “I don’t even get to see him anymore.”

“Like Mom?”

“Yeah, buddy, like your mom-he has to live far away, but he’ll always be my…best friend, just like your mom will always be your mom.”

“What’s his name?”

“Mickey.”

“Like the mouse?” The younger Ian seemed skeptical.

“Yeah, like the mouse, but he’s nothing like the mouse,” Ian said with a little laugh.

“What is he like?”

Ian swallowed hard. The obvious answer was “You” but Ian didn’t want to get into that until the boy was older. “He was the most loyal, toughest, funniest guy I ever knew,” Ian said instead.

“Okay, you can change my middle name to Mickey.”

So, on adoption day, the judge pronounced him as Ian Mickey Gallagher and gave him a stuffed Scottie dog to commemorate the occasion. All the kids that were getting adopted got a stuffed animal.

The two Ians come home happy. Ian had discussed with his therapist what to say to make the transition as easy as possible for the boy and the main thing was communication and explanations, so Ian had gone to great lengths to let the child know what adoption was, and that Ian was making a commitment to take care of the boy for his whole childhood and beyond, and that the judge would make it official. Now that all the formalities were over, both of them felt like everything was finally in place and they could relax.

Ian sent the boy off upstairs to change into play clothes-he had bought him a pullover sweater and a slightly fancy pair of pants for the court appearance that was also going to double as his first day of school outfit.

Ian was placing the adoption certificate on the mantle to keep it safe till he brought it to get framed, and Lip came up behind him and read it over his shoulder.

“That’s it then, no backing out of this now, huh? How did the squirt do at his first court appearance? If Little Ian’s anything like his real dad, there will be plenty more to come.”

Before Ian turned around, he heard his older sister’s laugh at those inappropriate comments. He gritted his teeth and whirled around.

“Get this straight right now, both of you,” he growled out, so his voice wouldn’t carry upstairs. “You call me Red or Brother Ian or Uncle Ian or anything else, but don’t you EVER call him ‘Little Ian’ or make him feel small or lesser than anyone else. Mickey’s father spent most of his life fucking with him like that and I will not have his son treated that way.”

“Okay, Christ, it was just a joke,” Lip said, putting up his hands and backing off.

“It wasn’t funny, so it wasn’t a joke,” Ian stated calmly.

“Fiona laughed,” Lip said.

“Lip…shut up,” Fiona said. To Ian she added, “You’re right, it wasn’t funny, I shouldn’t have laughed, I apologize.”

The day after the adoption, Ian told his new son he’d teach him how to write his new name. He went to the desk in the corner of the dining room and dug out an old notebook that was obviously Carl’s-most of the pages were still empty. Ian printed out “Gallagher” in big letters across the top of a page, and the boy studied it for a minute.

Suddenly his face lit up and he said, “A lot of the letters are the same, this will be easy.” He pointed out how the first six letters are g-a-l forwards and backwards, then sounded out the last three are the word her-and started writing it over and over and soon he’s got it without having to look up at Ian’s example.

The elder Ian then flipped to the next page so he can practice writing out his full name, but the Mickey frustrates him, he can’t parse it down like he did with Gallagher. Ian is disappointed but figures the kid has had enough for a first try-he did really well learning his new last name so fast. The rest will come in time.

Days and then weeks passed, with the new Ian fitting into their lives smoothly. He had his bouts of missing his mom, but being in a busy household surrounded by new family members helped, plus his adopted dad spent more time doing stuff with him and actually talking with him than his mom had ever done. His new dad explained that’s because she had a lot to do just to keep them going, but Ian had lots of help from his sisters and brothers and coworkers for that stuff, so he got to have more time for one on one.

Fiona and even Lip seemed to go out of their way to be extra helpful and worked their schedules around Ian’s so all the babysitting didn’t fall on Debbie’s shoulders. Debbie, when she caught on that Fiona and Lip had their doubts about Ian adopting the boy, became Team Ian all the way and suddenly didn’t mind babysitting, which had an added benefit for Franny. Debs was back on track as being the caregiver she seemed destined to be when she was a pre-teen running the summer daycare out of the house.

Besides all the Gallaghers, young Ian had another very important person come into his life, his new best friend Yevgeny Milkovich. He lived two doors down with his mom and her friends Kev and Vee and their twin girls Amy and Gemma. Ian had played with kids before at the various shelters where he lived with his mom, and he considered Liam and Franny to be his friends, but no one was ever a friend to him like Yevgeny.

Yev, for his part, was thrilled to finally have a friend to team up with against the twins. Not that he minded-or even noticed-they were girls, they just had a tendency to boss Yevgeny around and always made him do what they wanted.

“Holy fucking shit they’re like those dolls people can get custom made,” Vee had said the first time she saw Ian, which was when he was deep in conversation with Yevgeny. “They just have different hair-everything else is the same. They look more like twins than the girls do.”

“Yevgeny will have my nose as he grows older,” Svetlana said, a bit freaked out herself at the resemblances between the two.

“You think?” Kevin asked seriously. “Looks like they both got Ian’s button nose…”

Svetlana and Vee each slapped him on a pec. “How could they have Ian’s nose?” Veronica snapped at him. “Think about it.”

Kev shrugged. “Think about it all you want-those kids have Ian’s nose.”

Yevgeny and Ian were enrolled in all day kindergarten in September and were assigned to the same classroom. The parents took turns dropping them off and picking them up at school, so grown up Ian was spending lots of time with Yev again too. Svetlana seemed satisfied that Ian was stable now, and never brought up the past, although Ian did try to apologize to her for staying away back when Mickey was in prison and especially after he broke out.

“All spilled milk, forget it, you can’t change past,” Svetlana had said. “Yevgeny is happy to see you and his brother now, that is all that matters.”

In mid-October, Svetlana called Ian’s cell phone on a Saturday afternoon. “You are home or working?” she asked.

“Home,” Ian answered.

“Have Fiona or someone bring boy to my house, I’m leaving bar now, Kev is with the kids at home.”

“I can bring Ian…” Ian began to say, but Svetlana cut him off.

“Stay put, I’m coming to you and we need to talk in private.” She hung up.

Ian was internally freaking out, this had to be about Mickey. He didn’t want to alarm Ian, so he focused on staying calm while he bundled him into a hoodie and asked Fiona to please bring him to play with Yevgeny for a while.

“Everything okay?” Fiona asked, picking up on the fact Ian was trying too hard to seem normal.

“Yeah, it’s fine, just thought the kids would like to play and I didn’t want to hold Ian up while I take care of some things.”

Fiona looked into his eyes and nodded. “Come on, kiddo, let’s go see what Yev’s up to,” she said, taking her nephew’s hand.

When Svetlana showed up, Ian didn’t even give her time to knock on the door. He yanked it open and practically yelled, “Mickey?”

Svetlana made a shooing motion with her hands to get him back inside the house. “I have received letter.”

“What does it say?”

“He is coming, wants to see son.”

Ian stared at her, waiting to hear the rest. When it seemed like she wasn’t going to say anything more he asked, “That’s it? That’s all he said?”

“That is it,” Svetlana nodded.

“Well, what did you say to him?” Ian felt like he might faint. He sat down heavily on the chair in the Gallagher living room.

“I sent pictures of the boy and your note,” she said.

“And you didn’t write anything to send with those?” Ian said, not believing she would keep her opinion out of things.

“I sent letter about Yevgeny, mostly. Maybe mentioned you, a little. It was months ago now, who can remember?” Svetlana shrugged dismissively.

Ian gave up. When Svetlana didn’t want to talk about something, she didn’t talk about it. Maybe Mickey would let Ian know what she said, but maybe he wouldn’t. Overall, what did it matter?

“Oh, two other things. He said he’ll call you from burner phone, so if you get a call from unknown number, answer it.”

Ian nodded, then wrinkled his forehead in thought-did Svetlana consider that two part message two separate things? Almost as if she read his thoughts she added, “He’ll be here tomorrow.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun! Mickey's finally about to make an appearance! Tune in next week, LOL.
> 
> Just a couple of things from this chapter. One is that I will NEVER tire of imagining break up scenes for Ian and Terror in my head. The show could've had a great one if, after "get off my porch, dick", they had never shown Terror again. That would've gone down as an all time great break up, but of course they blew it. 
> 
> The adoption scene I based on an episode of Judging Amy I saw years ago :) 
> 
> Lip is still being a dick about Mickey's kid because I think in canon Lip IS a dick about all things Milkovich. He needs to get his head out of his ass, but I'm sure the show will never have him reflect on any of it ever. 
> 
> Angie is truly and forever gone from the story. She knows she's done her best by young Ian and now she wants him to have a good life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who just blew into town?

 

 

 

The next day Ian was trying to keep his cool, but figured he was failing miserably. He had scrambled the night before to get someone to take his shifts for the coming week. He had no idea how long Mickey might be around-and really coming back to Chicago for even a minute seemed far too dangerous to Ian-but he figured he could use some time to recover no matter what happened.

He also dithered about keeping Ian home from school, but in the end sent him and decided he could always go pick him up if Mickey got to town early. The kid would be better off away from Ian’s nervous energy anyway.

Mid-morning his phone rang.

“Hello?” he had to bite his tongue from blurting out Mickey’s name. Just his luck this unknown caller would be a telemarketer or something.

“Midway Holiday Inn-the one with the pool. You know it?”

“Ye-yeah,” Ian stammered, his heart racing.

“Room 316, bring the kid.”

That was it, no hello, no goodbye, no “I want to talk to you, maybe it’d be better if we meet first then bring the kid later.” Ian sighed. What the hell had he been expecting?

Ian walked to the school to pick up his boy. On the way he called Svetlana. Since he was supposed to be working that day, she was the one scheduled to pick up the kids. Ian told her “he” was here and Ian was bringing the kid to see him, so he was pulling him out of school.

“Fine,” Svetlana said and hung up. No one was feeling very chatty today-Ian himself hadn’t told any of his family anything, and he didn’t want to, but it would’ve been nice to be able to talk with Svetlana a bit, maybe calm himself down a little.

He texted for an Uber as he walked, knowing it might take some extra time for someone with a child safety seat to be available. While he was waiting in the school office for an aide to bring Ian to him he got a message that a car was on its way and should be there in about ten minutes.

Talking to Ian on the drive out to the hotel helped take his mind off of what was about to happen since the boy wanted to talk about school matters instead, and hadn’t questioned his guardian when he told him they were going to see an old friend of grown up Ian.

“…and they’re gonna let us dress up, and decorate the cafeteria, and there’s gonna be a soft serve yogurt machine,” Ian related breathlessly, letting his parent in on all the details of the school Halloween party that had been announced that morning.

“That sounds awesome, buddy,” Ian said, keeping an eye on the driver’s mounted phone that ticked down the minutes till their destination. They were getting close. Young Ian happily filled the time talking about costumes and what kind of poster he and Yevgeny would make and if Ian could help him make cookies or cupcakes he could decorate them with orange and black frosting…

They got to the hotel and Ian gave the driver five stars and decided since he had his phone out, he might as well shoot off a text to the number that had called him that morning and let him know they’d arrived.

The two Ians got on the elevator and got off at the third floor. When the doors opened, Ian took a quick glance at the sign pointing the way to the different room numbers and all too soon they were outside of 316. Ian smiled down at the boy next to him, but it wasn’t his usual smile at all.

“You wanna knock?” he said to the boy. Ian smiled back up at him-his looked perfectly natural-and he rapped his little knuckles on the door.

The door opened and so did Ian’s mouth. He didn’t know what he was expecting-a scowl, hostility, bemusement-something along that nature, but all he saw was blond. Blond hair, blond eyebrows, blond _bangs,_ but then he saw those blue eyes and he knew they hadn’t knocked on the wrong door.

Mickey’s eyes went from Ian’s face down to the boy standing at his side.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

The boy raised an eyebrow and looked from the stranger to his adoptive dad.

“Daddy?” he said in an uncertain voice.

Ian tore his eyes off of Mickey to look down. “Hey, Ian, this is my best friend, Mickey. Mickey, this is, uh, Ian.”

“You named him after yourself?” Mickey said, both his eyebrows raised.

“No, my mom named me, after some vampire. Then this Ian,” he tugged on his dad’s hand, “gave me your name for my middle name, cuz you’re friends.”

Mickey was shaking his head. “What are we talkin’ about this in the hall for? Come on inside.” He stepped back and held the door open so the pair could walk in.

The room was nice, spacious. There was a short hallway into the room with a bathroom and closet to the side, then the room opened up and had a king size bed and a table with comfortable chairs set up over by the windows. There was a minibar and a coffee maker and all the comforts of a decent hotel. Ian knew he was being a chicken looking at all that stuff instead of Mickey, and he kept it up by busying himself taking off the kid’s school backpack and helping him out of his jacket.

He finally looked at Mickey though, startled again by the blond hair momentarily but then he noticed the soft look Mickey had as he watched his son, who was now looking around the room with great interest.

“This place is cool!”

“Yeah? You like it?” Mickey said, the beginning of a shy grin on his lips.

“Yeah!” the kid said. “I’ve never been in a place like this.”

It hit Ian that this was probably the first hotel room he’d ever been in. And outside of the fancy downtown hotel they had run their Twink Scam in, Mickey probably hadn’t been in a decent hotel either.

“So, uh, Ian,” Mickey said, clearly directing his conversation at the boy, “um, what do you do for fun?”

“Why don’t we all sit down, and you can show him stuff from your backpack,” Ian said, trying to facilitate. “I, uh, I could go get us some snacks, or something…”

“Stay, Gallagher. Jesus, the first thing you’re teaching the kid is it’s normal to be left in a room with a random guy?” Mickey’s voice had that lilt of teasing affection Ian missed on the daily.

“You’re not random,” Ian began.

“You’re his best friend!” the boy pointed out, taking his backpack from Ian.

They all went to the chairs by the window. Mickey sat in the furthest one and the two Ians sat in the other one, the boy climbing into Ian’s lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. Ian caught Mickey giving them a longing look, but Mickey’s face went back to polite interest when he noticed adult Ian noticing him.

Schoolboy Ian dug out some worksheets he had done at school to show Mickey. “The check plus means I did extra good,” he explained, passing the sheets over for Mickey’s inspection.

“That’s great, buddy,” Mickey said, truly looking at the papers and seeing what his son was learning.

“I already know my numbers and my letters and I can even read a little, especially when Daddy helps me-or Auntie Debbie or Auntie Fiona or Auntie Svetlana. Auntie Vee says she never has time to read with us, but she works hard,” Ian informed him.

Mickey felt more than a little homesick hearing all those names.

Ian took some pieces of construction paper out of his pack next. “These are pictures I colored-my best friend Yevgeny drew the outlines, then I colored ‘em in.”

Mickey’s eyes met the older Ian’s at the mention of his other son. “He, uh, likes to draw? Your friend Yevgeny?” Mickey’s voice hitched a little on the last word.

“Yeah! He’s a great drawer! He can draw anything! He draws better than I color-I don’t always stay in the lines.”

Mickey had a few pictures spread out before him on the table. “Makes it more interesting when you go outside the lines every once in a while,” he said, his eyes still on the pictures. “Makes it your own.”

“You really think so?” young Ian asked.

“I really do.”

“Do you color?”

“Nah, I’m more of a drawer too,” Mickey answered.

“Could you draw something for me to color? I’ve got my crayons, and some more paper…” he dug through the bag, pulling out a sheaf of blank white paper.

“Sure-I could try,” Mickey said. “What do you want me to draw?”

“Well, Yevgeny and me, we’re going to make some Halloween posters. I could use practice coloring bats.”

Mickey put Ian’s pictures into a neat pile and then reached across for some blank paper. Ian solemnly passed him the black crayon and watched interestedly as Mickey drew a couple of big bats on a sheet. He couldn’t wait till they were done, he got down from Ian’s lap and walked to stand right next to Mickey, following the motion of his hand as he drew.

The grown up Ian took a moment to watch the two side by side. They looked right together.

“May I color it now?” Ian politely asked when Mickey stopped to look over his bats. He had learned from Yevgeny not to bug an artist while he was drawing.

“Yep, I think this is ready to be colored in,” Mickey said. To his surprise, the boy climbed up into his lap just like he had done with Ian.

The other Ian saw the soft look overtake Mickey’s features again. He pushed the box of Ian’s crayons across the table where he could reach them. Mickey was watching his son so intently that the older Ian could take a good, long look at Mickey.

His hair looked good, and really natural, which was completely surprising since if anyone had ever asked Ian if he could picture Mickey with blond hair his answer would’ve been an emphatic no. It had highlights and probably what Ian had heard Fiona and Debbie calling lowlights and it was soft and looked like spun gold. The fringe of bangs was short, but definitely bangs. His skin was actually sprinkled with freckles that Ian had never seen showing up so clearly before, even in the middle of summer. His overall skin tone-Mickey could never be tan-was definitely sun kissed and looked good on him. His skin had a healthy glow and it reminded Ian of a perfectly toasted marshmallow.

Ian’s eyes were drawn by the movement of Mickey’s hand as he drew some more bats on a new sheet of paper, and Ian was startled when he realized Mickey’s knuckle tats were gone. He was just about to ask Mickey about that when his phone rang.

“Hello?” Ian said, and then fell silent as the person on the other end spoke. Mickey looked up at Ian and raised his blond eyebrows.

“Hold on a second,” Ian said into the phone and then pulled it away from his face and tapped the mute button. “Hey, bud? How about you try going to the bathroom?”

“Do I gotta?” young Ian asked, he was having fun watching Mickey draw.

“Yeah, it’s been a while-I bet you need to pee.”

The kid got down off Mickey’s lap and found his way to the bathroom door. He stuck his head back out. “Hey! The toilet’s closer to the ground then the one we have at home!”

“Awesome-let me know if you need my help washing your hands, okay?” Ian called back. When he heard the door clicked closed, Ian said to Mickey, “It’s Svetlana-she wants to know if you want to see Yevgeny.”

Mickey took in a deep breath. “Of course I do, but will it fuck him up? I can’t stay here very long…” He bit his lower lip, thinking. “Yeah, yeah I want to see him. If she thinks it’s all right.”

Ian unmuted the phone and told Svetlana Mickey wanted to see him. She was just on her way to pick him up from school and said she’d be at the hotel soon.

“You know where he’s staying?” Ian asked.

“Of course, he called me when he got in,” Svetlana replied.

“Do you want me to send an Uber for you?”

“I can get us there-we’ll see you shortly,” she said and disconnected the call.

The shorter Ian did need the taller Ian to lift him up to the sink to wash his hands, then he went back to Mickey to color in his bats. Young Ian was telling Mickey about the posters for the party and asking his opinion on what colors to use.

“Do you like colorful stuff?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah, it’s cool. I mean, I know bats are black and brown, and we’ll probably do some of those, but I kinda like purple and even green.”

“I think those would look great,” Mickey said, watching as the boy colored one of his bats in with the purple crayon. “And do you ever use magic markers? Those come in all kinds of colors.”

The younger Ian paused in his coloring, considering. “We’re gonna use construction paper, magic markers don’t work too good on that. They suck up the ink or something. Me and Yevy haven’t had good luck with markers.”

Mickey gave him a big grin. “Sounds like you guys know what you’re doing. Maybe, uh, Ian here, could get you guys some neon crayons to try.”

“I could do that,” Ian said, smiling at them both.

Soon there was a knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” Ian said, so the guys could keep coloring.

“Check who it is,” Mickey said.

“Yeah, of course,” Ian said, reminded all too forcefully that this wasn’t the safest place for Mickey to be all over again. He checked the peephole when he got to the door.

It was Svetlana and Yevgeny, and when Ian saw him, he jumped down from Mickey’s lap again and went running over to greet him. The boys hugged.

“Yevgeny, you’ll never guess who’s here! It’s my dad’s best friend Mickey. Mickey, this is my best friend Yevgeny, and when I get big and have a boy, I’m gonna make his middle name Yevgeny!”

“That’s great, buddy,” Mickey said, his eyes focused on his youngest son. He couldn’t get over how much he had grown, and how much he looked like his brother. Only their hair color was markedly different. He had a fleeting thought wondering what their teacher must think.

Svetlana got their coats off and Ian brought his friend over to the table explaining about the bat drawings.

“Hey, Svetlana, uh, good to see you again,” Mickey said quietly.

She gave Mickey an appraising look. “You look good, blond suits you.” She changed gears. “Has the boy eaten?”

Mickey and Ian both looked sheepish. “I…in all the excitement, I never thought of it,” Ian admitted.

“There is Wendy’s nearby. I’ll take them…” Svetlana began, but Mickey cut her off.

“No, please, just order room service-I want to eat with them.”

“Of course, no problem,” Svetlana said. “Why don’t you two get a drink, or something? Take a few minutes to talk-grab a smoke. Food should be here by the time you get back.”

“Yeah, fuck, let’s do that,” Mickey said. Suddenly everyone in one room was a bit overwhelming.

“Hey guys?” Ian said. “Me and Mickey will be right back-Yevgeny’s mom is going to order us all some lunch.”

“I had lunch at school,” Yevgeny said.

“So you’ll have snack,” Svetlana said.

“Okay!” Yev was a very easy going kid.

Ian and Mickey left the room. Mickey was silent on the ride to the elevator, but when they were walking towards the lobby they passed the indoor pool and he said, “Maybe you could bring the boys here tomorrow and we could all go swimming.”

Ian was surprised, but all for the idea. “That’d be great, they’d love that,” Ian said. The next day was Saturday, so the kids wouldn’t be in school. “You swim now?”

“Uh, yeah,” Mickey said, looking straight ahead as he walked.

“How did you learn?” Ian said, wondering why he could never keep his mouth shut.

“Couple guys I know taught me, here and there,” Mickey said, clearly wanting to drop the subject. “Wanna smoke first? Shit, I should’ve grabbed my coat.”

“I could go back…” Ian began.

“Naw, fuck it. If I can’t stand outside for a few minutes in the fall…I’m not that big a pussy.”

They went through the doors of the hotel and found the designated smoking area. Mickey asked, “Got any smokes?”

Ian was still lost in thought about “guys” teaching Mickey to swim in Mexico. “Uh, no, sorry. I ah, I quit, actually. I was going to have to pay more for my health insurance at work if I didn’t, plus the EMT company really discourages it.”

“Huh,” Mickey said, giving Ian a quick look. “I pretty much quit too-cigarettes are way cheaper there, but it made the most sense to save money by cutting them out.”

Ian nodded.

“Let’s go back in,” Mickey said.

This time they went in the opposite direction of the elevators and walked into the hotel’s lounge. It was just before four, so the place was virtually empty. A server greeted them.

“Hello, gentlemen! Would you like to sit at the bar, or have a table?”

They looked at each other and said, “Table” at the same time. No sense in trying to talk where the bartender could listen in.

“Sit anywhere you like; I’ll be right over to take your order.”

They chose a table in a corner just in case people started coming in, they’d still have relative privacy.

When the server came over, Mickey asked what they had in long necks. She started rattling off an alphabetical list of brands, but Mickey interrupted her. “Budweiser will be fine, thanks.”

“I’ll have a Sprite,” Ian said.

“Coming right up!” the server said.

Ian looked up at Mickey shyly from under his lashes. “Yeah, quit drinking too. The meds, ya know?   All my vices have become versus-booze versus the meds, smoking versus the meds, caffeine versus the meds, a varied sleep pattern versus the meds-it finally occurred to me I should stop butting my head against brick walls and listen to what experts had to say. And I gotta stay stable as I can for the kid. I’m uh, I’m sorry it took me so long to get that through my thick head-I shoulda listened to you from the start.”

If Mickey was going to reply to that, he never got the chance because the drinks arrived just then. He picked up the bottle and took a long pull from it. Ian tried not to look at his lips wrapped around the bottle, but he was only human.

As a matter of fact, Ian was having a hard time knowing where to look. Every time his glance returned to Mickey he’d be startled by the blond hair and brows, so he’d try to look at Mickey’s eyes, but found himself drowning in those pools of blue. He’d lower his gaze further but that was no good, Mickey’s full lips and those matching freckles on the top and bottom lips on Ian’s right, Mickey’s left, would drive Ian to distraction. He looked at Mickey’s hair again.

Mickey noticed all of the above, and raised his eyebrows at Ian.

“What do you think of the hair?” he asked.

“It looks good,” Ian said, and gulped. “Really good, really natural.”

“They had to strip all my natural color out of it first. My hair was this strange shade between gray and white. I saw what I’ll look like as an old man, if I make it that far. You probably would’ve nutted.” He gave Ian a cheeky smile as Ian snorted on his sip of Sprite. “It’s a bitch to keep up, when my hair grows. Luckily I’ve sorta been adopted by a group of lesbians that run a beauty salon.”

That piqued Ian’s interest. “Really?” He couldn’t picture Mickey in a beauty salon at all.

“Yeah-they gave me my first job down there, hired me when I was wrung out and tired. I wanted to do something legit for work, but didn’t have the first idea what. They had a sign in the window that I guessed said ‘Help Wanted’ in Spanish and luckily a couple of them speak pretty good English from watching American TV. They let me sleep in the back room and I did the janitorial stuff-washing the towels and capes, sweeping up after haircuts, putting inventory away. They couldn’t pay me much, but they could disguise my hair and I thought that was worth a lot.”

Ian nodded, but he still couldn’t picture it.

Mickey was quiet for a moment too, remembering how the women generously took him in and did all they could for him. He had been kicking around Mexico for a couple of months at that point-he hadn’t wanted to touch the bit of Ian’s money he’d kept but the few hundred he had gotten for the stolen car was rapidly disappearing and he needed to find a job. He didn’t see the point in trying anything illegal since that would’ve got his ass shipped right back to the States if and when he invariably got caught, since he never knew what anyone was saying when they talked.

The beauty parlor was run by a pair of gay cousins and two of their gay friends-none of them had ever dated each other, which Mickey guessed was a big part of their success in working together. They took Mickey on as a makeover project and who was he to resist? They were delighted when they found out he was gay too (that’s what got him the job, actually) and they told him where he could find like-minded gentlemen to hook up with. Mickey hadn’t known how to go about that, wasn’t sure if he was ready. When he got to Mexico he was still a mess from Ian shattering his heart and hopes yet again. He knew the reality of the situation was he’d never see Ian again, but the thought of finding someone and figuring out if they were down to bang and not out to bash gay dudes seemed too daunting a task, especially with the language barrier. And he didn’t want to go near any tourists in the off chance that they were from Chicago or even Canada and had seen the news reports about his escape.

Once the beauty shop amigas pointed him in the right direction, he hooked up with a few guys, but they were all just fuck buddies. Between Ian stomping on his heart and his own upbringing it was hard for Mickey to let his guard down and trust anyone, let alone anyone whose spoken intentions he couldn’t understand.

“You still work there?” Ian asked, bringing Mickey back into the present.

“Not officially. They couldn’t afford to pay me much so I got a night job as a bar back. They promoted me to bouncer pretty quick and one night a guy who works at a big tourist hotel was in and saw me take care of some drunk American college kids without too much fuss, so he offered me a job working security at the hotel. Can you believe it? I’m getting paid to keep other people’s shit safe while they’re on vacation.”

“Wow,” Ian said, properly impressed. “But a tourist place? Aren’t you afraid you’ll be recognized?”

“Not really,” Mickey shrugged. “I’d been down there a while, had the whole blond thing going on, my tats were gone…”

“I noticed that. How were you able to afford that?”

“The beauty shop amigas know a guy that does laser removal, it so much cheaper down there. Everything is-dental and medical procedures, prescription drugs…”

Ian raised his eyebrows at Mickey. Was he suggesting...?

“We should get back to the kids,” Mickey said suddenly, standing up and fishing a twenty out of his wallet to throw on the table.

“I can pay for the drinks…,” Ian started to say, but Mickey was already walking away.

Ian caught up with him, but they didn’t speak going back up to the room.

Svetlana had ordered them chicken salad sandwiches since she didn’t know how long they’d be gone and if a hot meal would grow cold. The kids were already finished with their meals.

“Auntie got us chicken nuggets, and some guy brought them right to the room!” Ian informed them when they came in.

“There was a bottle of ketchup and everything,” Yev added, marveling that it just appeared without being asked for. “And milk cartons!”

“Wow, guys, that’s awesome,” Ian said. “Hey, speaking of drinks, I saw a sign that there’s vending machines down a hall around the corner-why don’t you guys come with me so I can get something to drink with my lunch?” He wanted Svetlana to have a chance to talk to Mickey alone too. “You want anything, Mick?”

Mickey gave Ian a sort of helpless “please don’t do that” look at the use of the nickname but said, “Yeah, grab me a Coke or Pepsi or whatever.”

Ian took the kids down to the lobby first to show them the pool. He held off on saying they could maybe come back tomorrow to use it until he cleared it with Svetlana, but he did mention that “someday” they should bring their bathing suits and try it out. The boys liked that idea very much. They explored the lobby a bit and then Ian let the kids hit all the different floors on the elevator, riding up and down the five floors to kill more time. They finally got off at the third floor and found their way to the vending machines. Ian let the kids put the money in-Yevgeny got a Coke for Mickey and Ian got his bigger Ian a water. The kids begged for an orange soda and Ian said they could split one, but they had to promise not to go off on a sugar high or Svetlana would be mad at him.

They got back to the room and had to knock, and Ian had the kids call out, “It’s meeee!”

Mickey opened the door. Ian tried to read if he looked tense-or more-but he seemed unruffled from his time with Svetlana. He let them in and Yev handed him his pop.

“Thanks, Yevgeny,” Mickey said, smiling into the matching blue eyes.

They sat down at the table. Ian noticed Mickey had waited to eat his sandwich.

“Daddy, will you open this, please?” the younger Ian said, holding his soda can up. He and Yevy were still standing by the table.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, kiddo, let me grab some cups.” Ian got up and took two plastic cups off the top of the minifridge. He brought them back over to the table and gave each kid half a cup of soda.

While Mickey and Ian ate, the boys stayed right by the table so they could put their cups down. Svetlana sat at the end of the bed, quietly observing the four males.

“So, ah, Ian told me you like to draw,” Mickey said to Yevgeny.

“I do! And then Ian colors in what I draw-wanna see?”

Mickey nodded and Yevgeny scampered across the room to find his backpack. He lugged the whole thing over to Mickey and pulled out some papers.

“Show him your schoolwork too, Yev,” his best friend told him. “He likes to see that stuff.”

Yevgeny jammed his hand back down into the pack and pulled out worksheets. Mickey looked everything over as he munched on his sandwich. He was getting all check pluses too, and his drawings were imaginative and, thanks to Ian, colorful.

“This is all great,” Mickey said. “You guys both like school?”

“Yeah!” they said at the same time.

“The best part is we’re in the same class,” Yevgeny said. “And the teacher knows we’re best friends and she lets us work together.”

“We already knew our numbers and letters, so we get to sit in the corner and read and do math worksheets while the other kids learn the alphabet and how to count,” Ian added. “And Yevgeny even knows another alphabet, and some Russian words.”

Svetlana and the grown up Ian exchanged a smile. They had already been approached about the boys skipping a year, but hadn’t made up their minds yet. Ian wondered if Svetlana had told Mickey about that already.

“Yevy, Mickey drew me some bats and I colored them. Show him, Mr. Mickey!”

Grown up Ian had to swallow a snort.

“Please, kid, just call me Mickey-no mister.”

“Okay!”

Mickey pulled the papers over from where Svetlana had stacked them on the table to make room for the lunch. The two boys put their heads together and pored over them.

“These are good,” Yevgeny said in a very serious tone. “We could do something like this for our posters.” Young Ian nodded, his blue eyes as big as saucers. Mickey smiled fondly at the two boys.

“Yevgeny, finish up your drink, we go soon,” Svetlana said. Yevgeny’s face fell. So did Mickey’s.

“Do you have to take him so soon? I thought we could have supper together later, maybe order in some pizza or something. It’s been forever since I had real pizza,” Mickey said.

“Please, Mom? Please can I stay?” Yevgeny asked.

“I, uh, I could bring him home when Ian and I go,” Ian told her.

Svetlana looked at Mickey, and then down at her son. “You will behave, yes?”

“Of course, Mom!”

“Okay, but don’t stay late,” Svetlana said, addressing that to the older Ian. “Pizza then home, and call me when you leave.”

“You got it,” Ian said.

“If you boys are good, Mickey has a surprise for you, for tomorrow,” Svetlana said. “Give me kisses and I will go now.”

Both kids kissed her goodbye and she left.

“Ian, wanna play Legos?” Yevgeny said, after the door closed behind his mom.

“Can we, Daddy?”

“I don’t know if Mickey wants you guys spreading those things all over…” Ian began.

“It’s good, whatever,” Mickey said. “But, ah, I don’t have any Legos.”

“I do!” Yevgeny said. He picked up a different backpack and unzipped it and upended it, and about four hundred and eighty five Legos spilled out.

“Wow,” Mickey said, his eyebrows rising to his hairline. “You bring all those to school every day?”

“Nah, I only bring my school backpack, this is my Lego backpack. Mom brought it in case we had time to play,” Yevgeny explained.

The boys got on their knees and began building things, discussing what should go where, and what color bricks to use.

“This will tie them up for a while,” Ian said with a grin to Mickey.

“It’s cool, I could watch them all day,” Mickey said.

After a while even the big boys were talked into playing, down on the floor with the kids. They laughed and joked and Mickey couldn’t remember the last time he felt so happy and relaxed. He couldn’t believe these two little boys came from him, but he was going to enjoy every minute he got with them. The hours were flying by though, and Ian looked at his watch and said they better get their pizza order sorted.

They called in for some deep dish from a place close by that had good online reviews, according to Ian’s phone. Ian said he’d wait for it down in the lobby, leaving Mickey with the kids for a few minutes-Mickey wasn’t panicked at all about that now.

When Ian came back, the boys excitedly told him they’d be coming back the next day to go swimming with Mickey, because they had been good.

Ian beamed a smile at them. “Can I come too? I’ve been pretty good today.”

“Can he, Mickey, can Uncle Ian come too?” Yevgeny asked sweetly.

“Yeah, I suppose. He has been pretty well behaved today,” Mickey said, giving Ian an appraising look. It took Ian’s breath away for a minute.

After they ate, the boys tried to talk Mickey into drawing with them, but Ian had to be the bad guy and tell them they had to pick up their Legos and he would call Auntie Debbie to pick them all up.

“Guys, I promised your mom. And you do want to come back to swim, don’t you? Maybe you can draw tomorrow,” Ian said over their protests.

Mickey brought the kids into the bathroom and lifted each one up to the sink so they could wash pizza remnants off their hands while Ian called his sister and Svetlana. “You’re having Debbie pick you up?” Mickey asked, when he had followed the kids back into the room.

“Yeah, Fiona’s home from work now and her mini SUV has booster seats for all the kids. I’ll borrow it tomorrow to bring us all back here too.”

Mickey nodded. Things had changed around here if Fiona had her own vehicle.

Debbie texted Ian when she got there, and the boys were good about getting their coats and backpacks on and saying goodbye to Mickey, since they knew they’d be seeing him the next day. Ian and Mickey didn’t really say goodbye. Ian mumbled he’d see Mickey soon, and Mickey half waved and half nodded as the door shut behind the little group.

A little over an hour later, there was a knock on Mickey’s hotel door, and Ian’s voice saying, “Mickey? It’s me.”

Mickey opened the door, his blond hair startling Ian all over again.

“One of the kids forget something?” Mickey asked, stepping back since Ian was plowing right into the room.

“What? No, no-they’re spending the night together with Svetlana,” Ian answered, somewhat distracted. He was afraid how Mickey was going to take what he had to ask.

“Mickey, can I stay? With you? Tonight?” He rubbed his hands together to keep them from trying to pull Mickey into an embrace or anything else he didn’t have permission for.

“Gallagher, I didn’t come back here for that,” Mickey said warningly, dragging out the words.

“I know you didn’t, and I didn’t either, I came to bring you the kid,” Ian said, and meant it. “But now that I’ve seen you I can’t not try. When have we ever been in each other’s presence and not? But, if you want me to leave, I’ll leave.”

Mickey stared up into Ian’s eyes and thought about all the times when Ian didn’t want to-when he was sick, when he ditched him at the border-but he quickly decided nothing can change the past and Ian had a point about whenever they’re together. Mickey wanted to, he realized. Had wanted to since he first laid eyes on Ian again.

“Yeah, all right, come here,” Mickey said in a low, breathy voice. Ian’s hands reached out and pulled Mickey to him and they were kissing like nothing had ever happened to rip them apart before.

Mickey walked backwards, pulling Ian with him towards the bed and trying to help him get his jacket off at the same time while they were still kissing, their tongues entwining in a preview of what their bodies would soon be doing.

Ian’s coat fell to the floor behind him and he worked his hands between them so he could undo his belt and unbutton his jeans. Mickey was working on his own pants and they broke apart for a moment so Ian could untie his boots while Mickey toed off his shoes and pulled off his socks.

Getting completely undressed took longer than it probably needed to because they kept grabbing each other and kissing, it was a complicated dance. The last piece of clothing either of them had on was his shirt; Ian grabbed the back of his collar and pulled it off over his head and let that drop to the floor. Mickey stood before him biting his lower lip for a second, then turned his back towards Ian and climbed on the bed on all fours. He looked back at Ian over his shoulder.

“You doin’ this?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

Ian wrinkled his brow. “Aren’t you taking your shirt off?”

Mickey heaved a big sigh and sat back on his haunches. He pulled his shirt off and flung it over the edge of the bed. “You happy now? Get on me.”

Again Ian hesitated. Something had shifted. The hot and heavy atmosphere of want had turned in the blink of an eye to “let’s get this over with”. Ian didn’t want Mickey to feel obligated to do anything he didn’t want to do.

“Hey,” Ian said softly, “we don’t gotta…”

Mickey groaned and flipped over onto his back with his head on one of the pillows. “C’mere,” he said, his voice soft yet commanding.

Ian walked to the edge of the bed. “Wha-“ he began, but then he saw it. On Mickey’s chest. His Ian Galager tattoo was still there. Ian gently climbed onto the bed and positioned himself next to Mickey’s left side, their bodies lined up but not touching. “You kept it?”

“Obviously,” Mickey snorted. Then he gave Ian an appraising look. “It wasn’t on me when I got processed in, so it’s not part of my rap sheet or on record anywhere,” he explained in a quiet voice, wondering if Ian was going to make fun of it again like he did the only other time he saw it.

Ian lowered his head and nuzzled along the letters like a young deer nibbling fresh clover and Mickey let his head fall back against the pillow again and sunk his fingers into the thick hair at the back of Ian’s head. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit to himself this was exactly the type of scenario he had hoped for when he had carved the letters into his flesh drunk out of his mind on toilet wine back in the joint.

Ian lowered his head a bit to Mickey’s nipple and teased the nub with his tongue while he tweaked Mickey’s other nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

“Nipple pinchin’, huh?” Mickey breathed out, arching his back when Ian nipped with his front teeth.

“I owed it to ya,” Ian said, bringing his head up to look Mickey in the eyes. “I kept track of everything I have to make up to you. I promise I’ll do it all-if you let me.”

Mickey didn’t want to think right now, didn’t want to have to remember and talk and hash out all that shit. He just wanted Ian in this moment, didn’t want to ruin it. He knew by now he couldn’t trust his heart to Ian but his body was another story-he lets go with Ian like he can’t with anyone else. Ian seemed to get it, even though Mickey hadn’t said anything, and he moved down and Mickey closed his eyes when he felt Ian’s warm mouth wrap around the head of his cock.

Jesus, no one knew him like Ian. He knew just where and how to lick and suck and tease. Mickey’s hands had stayed in Ian’s hair and they pulled and squeezed when Ian did all this favorite things with his mouth. Mickey was writhing and moaning and letting his body just feel, his thoughts turned off beyond recognizing the pleasure.

Ian pulled his mouth off and Mickey’s eyes flew open.

“Just gotta get the stuff,” Ian soothed, his lips shiny and red. He let his hand trail down Mickey’s thigh as he got off the bed and went to find his jacket. He pulled a small bottle of lube and a condom out of one of the zip-up pockets. Mickey refused to let himself wonder if he had grabbed that stuff for tonight after he dropped off the kids or if he was always ready to have sex at a moment’s notice-once he let those thoughts run through his mind, that is. He shut that shit down real quick.

Ian returned to the bed and Mickey started to roll over. Ian quickly reached out and put his hand on Mickey’s hip. “Hey,’ Ian said, but then didn’t say anything else.

Mickey raised his eyebrows at him, and waited.

“Nah, do what you want, Mick. However you want to do this,” Ian said quietly.

“You wanna do it face to face?” Mickey said. It had been forever since Mickey had had sex that way-it had been since his last time with Ian.

“Uh, whatever, no, I want to do it however’s best for you,” Ian said, but his eyes seemed a little sad to Mickey.

Mickey pulled his knees up and then planted his feet flat on the bed. Ian huffed out a breath and his eyes filled with tears. Mickey was being so trusting here, he got that. Ian crawled onto the bed, placing the items in his hand down on the mattress and slotting his body between Mickey’s legs. He had his eyes on Mickey’s the whole time, and Mickey reached for the sides of Ian’s face and pulled him into a kiss.

“This is good,” Mickey breathed, parting their lips for a moment. “This…is…good.” He kissed Ian in between the words when he repeated them.  

“Mickey, I want to tell you stuff, want to apologize,” Ian began, but Mickey shushed him with his lips.

“Just show me instead,” he murmured against Ian’s mouth. Mickey’s hand found Ian’s cock and tugged on it from the base to the top, his palm dragging along the bottom, his fingers using the perfect amount of pressure wrapped around it. Ian’s hips followed the motion. Mickey was always able to handle Ian’s body just right.

Ian let his kisses stray down Mickey’s neck and into the hollow made by his shoulder muscles. He pulled one of Mickey’s legs up onto his own shoulder and let his hand trace over the thick thigh and down over the curve of Mickey’s ass, squeezing and caressing. Mickey’s hand already had him fully hard, and he was poking Mickey’s stomach every time his hips thrust forward.

Mickey put his free hand in Ian’s hand and tugged. Ian breathed out a laugh into Mickey’s skin and rearranged himself so he could roll on the condom and lube it up. Their bodies weren’t about to wait for exploration and foreplay-it’d been too long.

Ian was lined up and ready but he paused before pushing in.

“You ready?” he asked, his eyes inches away from Mickey’s. Mickey was already breathing heavy and he wrapped his arms around Ian’s torso from underneath and nodded. Ian wanted to say something more, wanted to tell Mickey he loved him, in point of fact, but remembered Mickey telling him to show him and figured he’d better do that instead. But he kept staring into Mickey’s eyes as he began a slow push inside, thinking the thought over and over and hoping Mickey could read it in his eyes, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Then Mickey let one of his hands slide down to Ian’s ass and give it a hard pinch and it was on. Ian began pushing slowly into Mickey as Mickey grabbed onto him and pulled him in ever deeper. Their breathing was becoming labored with their exertions and every inch of skin they felt from the other was tingling and making them crave more contact. Ian bottomed out and was marveling at the feeling of finally being balls deep in Mickey again. Mickey, for his part, grasped at the thoughts bouncing around in his head about how no one fit him like Ian did-no one else he had ever been with matched up with his body so well.

Mickey hiked his leg up even higher on Ian’s shoulder and wriggled his butt a bit. “’M good, you can move,” he muttered to Ian, looking up into his eyes. Ian leaned down to kiss him and then pushed himself up on one arm for a better position and started rocking in and out of Mickey, setting a rhythm he knew Mickey would appreciate: slowly out and then quickly slamming back in. He maneuvered Mickey’s leg around a bit and changed the angle of his thrusts and soon Mickey was moaning softly and his hand on Ian’s ass slipped off and he was grasping the sheets as Ian hit his prostate dead on over and over again. Their breathing got even heavier and louder adding to the sound of skin meeting skin in the quiet of the hotel room.

All too soon for either of them, Mickey had to let Ian know he was about to come.

“Close, Gallagher,” he panted.

“Me too.” Ian got one hand in between them and started jerking Mickey off while he continued to piston in and out of Mickey’s heat. A few more thrusts and Ian was coming into the condom and Mickey was staring up at his orgasm face that was actually probably really silly looking, but with Mickey only seconds away from making his own, it looked pretty damn hot.

Ian kept thrusting all through his orgasm, even if his rhythm was completely shot and his hand could no longer coordinate with his hips. Mickey appreciated the effort and with a loud groan from Ian and one last perfect jab to his prostate, Mickey was joining Ian in the white out bliss. Mickey let his leg drop heavily from Ian’s shoulder and they sought each other out for a kiss as the ripples continued to wave through their hot, sticky bodies.

After a few hundred heartbeats, Ian gently pulled out of Mickey and took the condom off. He started to get off the bed.

“Where you goin’?” Mickey asked lazily, his blue eyes on Ian.

“Uh, thought you’d want me to lea…”

“Stay, Gallagher, izz all right,” Mickey said, his eyes already beginning to droop.

Ian grinned and tossed the used condom into the wastebasket halfway across the room. “You want me to get you a towel?” Ian asked, but Mickey was already asleep-he had traveled over thirty-six hours by bus to get to Chicago, between that and the dicking down, he was out like a light. Ian shrugged and worked his way under the covers. He didn’t mind being a little sticky if Mickey didn’t.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you know when fic writers rightfully whine about keeping track of what character is doing what when they're both the same sex? Try being the idiot who not only gives two characters the same name, but also paints herself into a corner by adding the caveat that said same named characters can't be referred to as "big" and "little" and variations thereof, LOL. Anyway, hopefully I used enough action and descriptions that you dear readers will be able to figure out when it's kid Ian and when it's adult Ian talking and doing stuff. 
> 
> So, the longest chapter so far-there was no way I could postpone the full, er, fruits of their reunion till next week. I wanted to convey Mickey's irresistibility to Ian-no way was Ian going to go home to the Gallagher house and climb into bed alone. Not without trying with Mickey, at least. I would not be involved in keeping them apart one second longer than they already have been ;) 
> 
> Oh, and I have no idea if Uber provides child safety seats-I have no first hand experience with Uber whatsoever. Poetic license, okay?


	5. Chapter 5

Hours later Mickey awoke, momentarily disoriented feeling not the ocean breezes that he got in his corner bedroom above the cantina where he lived, but the slightly stale recirculated air of the hotel room instead. But the warm body pressed up against his back made up for the lack of fresh air in a room where the windows were never opened.

Mickey stirred just a little, and Ian snuggled into him, his dick responding immediately and Mickey was pretty sure Ian was awake, so he wriggled back a bit into Ian and Ian tightened his arm around him and pushed against him with a bit more vigor.

“You got more lube?” Mickey asked against the pillow, not even turning his head to look at Ian. He smiled when he heard Ian’s morning voice, all husky.

“Yeah, I do.” Ian reached for his wallet which had spent the night on the bedside table and fished out another condom, then felt around on the floor for the tube of lube. Ian got the condom and the lube on himself and slowly pressed into Mickey, both of them on their sides still. Mickey turned his head and went to kiss Ian, but Ian turned away mumbling, “Morning breath.”

“You worried ‘bout yours or mine?”

“My own.”

“I don’t mind it-kiss me.”

Ian did, and they made love quietly, and afterwards they both fell back into a deep sleep for a few more hours.

Ian woke up first, looked at the time on his phone, and jumped up out of bed, taking half the bedclothes with him.

“What the fuck, Gallagher?” Mickey moaned, reaching blindly for the blankets with his eyes closed.

Ian reached down and pulled up the blankets for Mickey, taking a last admiring glance at his pale thigh before it got covered. The skin there was the creamy white Ian associated with Mickey’s body-he must’ve always kept his thighs covered in the Mexican sun. “Gotta get the kids,” Ian said. “Okay if I grab a shower first?”

“Knock yourself out,” Mickey said into the pillow, already drifting off to sleep again. But when Ian came out of the bathroom to get dressed, Mickey was sitting up in the bed. He felt like he couldn’t walk, but in a good way.

“You, ah, you want something to eat...before you go?” Mickey asked.

“No time-I’ve got a Kind bar in my coat I can eat with my meds,” Ian said, as he pulled on his socks and shoes. “I’ll be back in about an hour with the boys.” He stood up and fished Fiona’s car keys out of his pocket. He wondered if he should kiss Mickey goodbye or if that would be pushing things since he’d be back soon.

“Ian, do you happen to have some swim trunks I could borrow, please? It didn’t occur to me to bring mine.”

“Sure,” Ian said, nodding enthusiastically. He flashed a big smile at Mickey and then walked out the door, leaning against it after it had closed behind him. He was on cloud nine because Mickey had called him by his first name. He pushed off from the door and walked down the hall with a wide smile on his face.

When Ian got back with the boys, he made sure the last thing they did before going down to the pool was hit the bathroom. Then they waited for Mickey to come out, wearing the borrowed bathing suit and a black sleeveless T shirt. Ian had let Mickey borrow his latest suit from the past summer, it was plain navy blue. The bathing suit Ian was wearing was older and had little white ship anchors on a faded pale blue background. Yevgeny’s trunks had cartoony sharks on it and young Ian’s had popsicles. The kids and Ian also had flip flops from the summer, but Mickey was going to make do in a pair of low cut Chucks of Carl’s Ian found in the closet at home.

As they walked to the pool, Ian wound up behind the three other guys and knew for a fact that Mickey’s ass looked better in that bathing suit than his did.

When they got to the pool, they practically had the place to themselves. A man was dutifully swimming laps up and down the length of it, and two teenagers were sitting at a table deeply engrossed in their iPads. Ian and Mickey’s group set up on the opposite side of the pool, spreading out big fluffy towels the hotel had on carts against the wall over four lounge chairs.

The kids were itching to get into the pool, so Ian and Mickey peeled off their shirts, then took off their own. Ian was sad to notice Mickey didn’t have a farmer’s tan anymore-he’d been too distracted the night before for it to register then. The kids focused right in on the tattoo.

“Hey! You have Ian’s name on you,” Yevgeny said.

“But Gallagher’s spelled wrong,” young Ian said, squinting at it to make out the cursive letters.

“Uh, yeah…” Mickey began, but didn’t know what else to say.

“That’s okay, we know what it’s meant to say,” the younger Ian said supportively. “We get that it’s your best friend.”

“I want to have this Ian’s name tattooed on me,” Yevgeny said, smiling and pointing at his friend.

“And I want yours on me!”

“Not till you’re eighteen,” Mickey said in a warning voice. “And, uh, I wouldn’t mention that idea to your mom-Auntie Svetlana either,” he added, shuddering to think how Svetlana would blame him if they were talking up getting ink when they weren’t even in first grade yet.

The kids led the big guys to the steps at the shallow end of the pool and walked right in.

“You guys know how to swim?” Mickey said, hustling to get into the water too, to catch up with them.

“Yeah, we learned in Auntie Fi’s pool!” Yevgeny told him.

They were good swimmers, and they spent hours in the water racing from one side of the shallow end to the other, and having contests staying under water, and the big guys taught them how to do handstands under water-teaching them to blow air through their noses when they were upside down and holding onto their heels to balance them at first, but soon both boys could do it on their own. Mickey and Ian also would take them out into the deep end of the pool, which was daring and cool and both boys loved it. The first few times they would cling to Ian and Mickey like little monkeys while they walked them into water over their heads, but soon they were swimming around, although the big guys made sure to be right by their sides and to tell them to never ever go out into the deep without them right there with them. It didn’t matter which guy took which boy out either, young Ian and Yevgeny were equally comfortable with both men.

Ian was still gnawing over the fact that Mickey learned how to swim, and he was trying not to let it bother him Mickey was so good at it, and obviously comfortable in the water. He wondered how much time Mickey had spent with his “instructors” in the time he’d been in Mexico. The thoughts hurt; they ripped right into Ian’s heart. He didn’t want Mickey to be with other men ever again.

Mickey, for his part, was loving Ian’s curls. Since they’d never been swimming together, he had no idea that Ian’s hair would turn into all those tight spirals and swirls. He hoped they’d stay even when his hair dried.

When they got back to the room they let the kids shower off the chlorine and then rubbed them down with the fluffy hotel towels and got them back into the sweatpants and sweatshirts Svetlana had dressed them in that morning, but now they put Underoos on instead of their bathing suits under their clothes.

Ian did a quick rinse off shower after the kids were set, and then Mickey was last. After he got out, he put the four wet bathing suits over the bar holding the shower curtain to dry. He grinned for a second-they looked good together like that.

When he came out of the bathroom dressed in his jeans and a T shirt, he saw that the two boys had their heads together over the room service menu. They were all starving after their work out in the pool. Mickey appreciated that Ian seemed to get that he didn’t want to go out. Even the hotel’s restaurant felt like too big a risk.

“Daddy, what’s this long word after ‘chicken’?” young Ian asked.

Ian tilted his head to see where the boy was pointing. “Quesadillas,” he answered.

“Can we get those?” Yevgeny asked. Both boys loved chicken quesadillas.

“Sure, sounds good,” Ian said. “I’m thinking I’ll get the chicken Caesar’s salad.” He passed the menu over to Mickey.

“I’m getting a hamburger,” Mickey said, waving off the menu. “Been thinking about it all day-a big ole US burger. I haven’t had one in forever.”

“They don’t have hamburgers where you live?” young Ian asked.

“Not like the ones here, they don’t,” Mickey answered. “Big and hot and juicy and made with American beef.”

Yevgeny looked up at Ian with his big blue eyes. “Maybe I want a burger…”

“No problem, Yev-see this here?” Ian said, holding the menu low enough that he could see it. “Sliders? Those are like mini-burgers. We can get some of those and you and Ian can have quesadillas and burgers, if you want.”

When the food came, they pulled the table over to the edge of the bed so the boys could sit there and Ian and Mickey sat in the chairs. The food was good, and Ian put some of his salad on the little bread plates that came with the set up so the kids would get some green into them. Mickey smiled over at him as he was cutting up the lettuce into bite size pieces for them. Ian caught him at it and smiled back.

Mickey quickly shifted his attention to the kids. “How are those sliders?”

“Really good!” Yev answered happily. By the end of the meal, everyone wound up sharing a bit of everything-Mickey had some of Ian’s grilled chicken and a quesadilla, Ian took a big bite of Mickey’s burger when offered, and the kids talked Ian into having a quesadilla too.

Afterwards they decided to watch a movie. The hotel had a pull down menu on the TV of free movies for kids and they choose some caper with three kid detectives. They all settled on top of the king size bed with the grownups on the ends and young Ian and Yevgeny in between, with Yev next to Mickey. The boys and Mickey fell asleep from all the swimming (and Mickey from the nonstop physical activities he’d been doing since the night before). Ian watched them all snuggled together for a bit, then he laid out flat on the bed and grabbed a nap too, leaving it to Bob Andrews and his friends to solve the movie mystery on their own.

They woke up refreshed and raring to go, so they all put their damp bathing suits back on and went back to the pool. For supper they ordered in Chinese food and Mickey was surprised the kids wanted the same thing he did-Kung Pao chicken.

“Ain’t that kinda spicy for them?” Mickey asked.

Ian shrugged. “It’s what they always get when we have Chinese. What can I say? They like it hot.”

After they had eaten Ian told the boys to get their stuff together, it was time to go home. They whined a bit, but then Ian reminded them they had promised Aunt Debbie they’d help her babysit Franny. That got them moving.

Ian motioned Mickey into the little hallway by the door while the kids put their jackets on.

“Is it okay if I come back after dropping them off? Uh, Debs said she’d watch them tonight and Yev’s sleeping over at our house tonight,” Ian said quietly, so the kids wouldn’t hear.

“Do whatever you want, man,” Mickey said. Ian gave him the puppy eyes. Mickey rolled his. “Fine, Gallagher, you can come back.”

“Do you want to come for the ride? See the old neighborhood?”

Mickey gave him a look that clearly conveyed, “What the fuck would I want to do that for?”

“Naw, man. It’s nerve-wracking enough just being in Chicago. It’d be just my luck someone would recognize me if I went South Side,” Mickey said.

“Yeah,” Ian said sadly.

“We’re ready to go,” Yevgeny said, as the kids walked into the little hallway.

“Wait up,” Mickey said, and went to the desk on the wall next to the TV cabinet. He handed Ian a keycard. “They gave me two when I checked in,” he said, passing it to Ian. Then he crouched down and looked at both boys. “I had a lot of fun seeing you guys.”

“We did too, Mickey,” young Ian said enthusiastically. Yev nodded his head happily.

“Er…think I could get a hug goodbye?” Mickey asked hesitatingly. Both kids threw themselves into his arms and Mickey gave them a tight squeeze. Ian watched on happily. The kids were comfortable with Mickey and he was a natural with them. Mickey had his eyes closed, snuggling his chin against one boy’s head then the other’s. He finally pulled out of the hug, but kept one hand on each kids’ shoulder. “You be good for your Aunt Debbie, all right? Go to bed when she says and shit.”

The kids giggled and nodded. “Night, Mickey,” young Ian said, giving Mickey a quick kiss on the cheek. Mickey was pretty sure he’d learned being affectionate from Ian.

“Yeah, good night,” Yevgeny said a bit more shyly, but then he gave Mickey’s other cheek a peck. Mickey’s eyes filled with tears, but grown up Ian was pretty sure they were happy tears.

 

When Ian got back from dropping the kids off with Debbie, Mickey was sitting at the table that he had put back in its original place close to the window. He’d also restored the chairs to their rightful place. Ian was a little disappointed, he had fantasized about Mickey being naked in the bed on his drive back to the hotel. He put the keycard on the little desk outside the bathroom and walked further into the room.

Mickey was sipping a beer. He pointed the neck at Ian and said, “Want one? There’s more in the minibar.”

Ian shook his head. “Don’t do too well drinking after I’ve taken my meds.” He also thought to himself, “I want my dick to be able to get hard later.”

“There’s other stuff too-tea and water and shit,” Mickey said.

Ian went to the minibar and flipped through the teabags lined up in a basket on top. He poured some bottled water into the coffee maker and poured it into a cup when it had heated up. “Chamomile lavender,” he said, holding up the wrapper when he put the bag in the cup.

“Sounds like something an old lady in an Agatha Christie story would drink,” Mickey snorted.

“What do you know about Agatha Christie?” Ian said, surprised.

“Not much to do in the joint but read and work out. All the books were from fifty years ago or more, it seemed like, but I got in the habit of reading. All I can find in English these days are books vacationers leave at the resort, and for some reason vacationers read a lot of Agatha. Some of them I’ve read five times, by this point.”

“Huh,” Ian said. He looked longingly at the bed-if he sat on the edge of it there wouldn’t be anything between them, but he had the feeling Mickey wanted to talk, so he sat in the chair on the other side of the table from him.

“So, uh, the kids are good readers, right? For their age? Both of them?” Ian nodded, and Mickey continued. “Both-can’t believe I wound up having two kids. Who knew I was so fucking fertile?”

Ian didn’t have an answer for that, so he just gave Mickey an odd little half smile.

“I can’t think of a way to thank you for steppin’ up, man,” Mickey said not meeting Ian’s eyes. “Taking in the kid? I know Angie never wanted to be a mom-didn’t want to bring another kid into the world just to have it land in the system like her. She talked about it a lot, back in the day. You might not know it, but I know it meant a lot to her to have you take him in. And that, ya know, she’s not a bad person or whatever.”

“No, Mick, I get it. I don’t judge her at all for giving him up. She did a better job of taking care of him while she could and finding him a good home when she couldn’t than Monica ever did for any of us.”

Mickey finally looked up and met Ian’s eyes. “And-you don’t mind? You don’t resent…”

“Hell no, Mickey. I’m just thankful I’m the one that got to take care of him. I love him, and I’m grateful every day he came into my life.”

They were both quiet for a few moments, each sipping their beverage.

“Do you, ah, do you think you’re going to tell Ian you’re his dad?” Ian finally found the courage to ask.

Mickey snorted. “Nah-we’re not even telling Yev. I can’t imagine how much it’d fuck them up to see me for a couple days and have me split. Ian’s had enough of that already, dontcha think?” Mickey shook his head. “It’s better for both of them if they think I’m just some friend of their parents. Michael Wagner.” He sighed.

“Michael Wagner? That’s your new name?” Ian asked with interest.

“Yeah, that’s what’s on all my papers-got a whole past with an almost legit paper trail.”

“How did you manage that?” Ian asked. When they were headed for the border Mickey had a fake passport he had bought in Chicago, and that was it. Ian never saw it, but since Mickey told him to call him Mickey at the border, he assumed that was the first name, at least, on the fake document.

“Svetlana knows people,” Mickey said. “She sent me some stuff when I let her know where to mail it. I didn’t ask for too many details, but apparently some acquaintances she has in the Russian mafia have this set up where they file birth certificates, get social security numbers for babies that never exist. They cultivate a paper trail over twenty or so years-school records, job history, medical files, hell, they even have the non-existent people vote. I have a new background that can pass deep scrutiny, not that anyone in Mexico ever looked into it.”

“Shit, sounds expensive, Mickey.”

Mickey shrugged. “Svetlana took care of it, wouldn’t let me pay her back. She said between the jobs I pulled for them in prison and the fact I saved her from a lifetime of being a whore, the mafia gave me a big discount and Svetlana picked up the tab. I’m sending her money for Yevgeny-I suppose I should start sending some for Ian too.”

“No, Mickey, it’s okay. You need money to live too. I’ve got Ian covered.” Ian could see Mickey wanted to argue about it, so he changed the subject. “Was Michael Wagner the name the Russians made up?”

Mickey laughed a little, and shook his head. “Naw, for about three hundred bucks I got the name legally changed. I picked it myself. Figured Michael’s close enough to Mickey that I’d hopefully respond to it even if I wasn’t paying close attention to someone saying it. And if someone like Mandy or Iggy ever came to see me and they slipped up, it could be explained away as a childhood nickname.”

Ian was a little hurt he wasn’t on Mickey’s list of hypothetical visitors. Mickey saw the sadness in his eyes and wanted to make it go away. “Aren’t you curious about the last name?”

Ian shrugged, looking down at his hands.

“Think about it,” Mickey said, his voice low and teasing.

Ian did think about it for a few seconds and then he looked up at Mickey, his eyes lighting up to an actual sparkle. “Van Damme’s last name in Double Impact?” Ian’s voice was definitely questioning-no way would Mickey ever…

“Who else?” he grinned.

“I thought you said ‘fuck Van Damme’,” Ian said, trying to be accusing but missing by a mile.

“That’s why I didn’t go with the name Van Damme!” Mickey said in his exaperated put-upon “I’m sick of explaining this shit” voice, but Ian knew he was only joking and they smiled into each other’s eyes for a good half minute.  

Ian was just about to make a move to get closer to Mickey when Mickey broke eye contact and said, “Kids were okay with you dropping them off again?”

Ian smiled. “I left them happily drawing pictures of the pool-they’ll give you yours tomorrow.”

“Uh, I’m leaving tomorrow, still can’t decide it it’d be better for them to just split or to see ‘em on last time to say goodbye,” Mickey said.

“So soon?” Ian yelped. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

“It took a day and a half to get here, be the same goin’ back-I’ve got a job I gotta get back to, man.”

“I’ll go with you. I’ve been wanting to move out of my house for a long time…” Ian began.

“No. No fuckin’ way.” Mickey was adamant. “You can’t split those kids up, even if they don’t know they’re brothers. It’s clear they share something deeper than friendship. You can’t take that away from either kid…losing someone that close hurts too much…it’s almost unbearable.” Mickey barely choked out the last words, his voice quiet and overcome with emotion.

Mickey was obviously talking about himself and Ian and Ian’s heart broke for what he’d put Mickey through.

“When will we see you again?” Ian asked, desperation in his voice.

Mickey wouldn’t look at him. He shook his head. “Probably never, man. Coming up once was a huge risk-coming back the odds are even greater that I’d get caught.”

“But…but, what was this?” Ian motioned his hand in between himself and Mickey.

“It was just fuckin’, just like we did on the way to Mexico. One last hurrah before we have to split up again.” Mickey was trying to sound bitter and uncaring, but he wasn’t able to pull it off. Ian could see right through it.

“I know what you felt when we were together-you can’t fake that. It was more than just sex. You love me, and I love you.”

Mickey stared at Ian, his mind racing. Of course he loved the fucker-always had, probably always would. But their love was never enough to bring them anything but trouble-and now it wasn’t just the two of them that would be hurt when things blew up again, like they always did. There were two little boys that would pay the price this time, and Mickey couldn’t be responsible for that. He could barely handle the look in Gallagher’s eyes right then. He had to get out.

He jumped up from his chair and walked past Ian and out the door of the hotel room before Ian could process what was happening. Ian got up to go after him, making sure to grab the keycard he had put on the desk on his way out. Mickey hadn’t taken his coat or anything.

Ian took the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator to come back up. When he got to the lobby, Mickey was just walking out the front doors. Ian tried to catch him up, but Mickey had a good head start and was walking rapidly. Ian kept him in sight as he walked down the sidewalk, dodging other pedestrians and closing the distance between them.

Mickey stormed into the first bar he came to, and then turned around to walk right back out when he realized it was a karaoke bar. But he walked into Ian coming in the door, so he spun around again and headed to the bar.

“Whiskey, make it a double,” Mickey said to the bartender, who raised his eyebrows and pointed to the shelf behind him, indicating a plethora of whiskey brands. “Canadian Club, whatever,” Mickey said, slapping a twenty down on the bar. Mickey glanced to his side while the bartender poured, expecting Ian to be at his elbow. But he wasn’t.

Ian had gone up on stage and as Mickey tossed his drink back, Ian began to sing. The song he had chosen was You’re In My Heart by Rod Stewart. Mickey rolled his eyes listening to Ian’s off key rendition, but Ian’s gaze found Mickey at the bar and he stared right into his eyes as he sang, “You're in my heart, you're in my soul, you'll be my breath should I grow old, you are my lover, you're my best friend, you're in my soul.” Mickey turned back to the bar to order another shot, but Ian wasn’t deterred.

“My love for you is immeasurable, my respect for you immense. You're ageless, timeless, lace and fineness, you're beauty and elegance. You're a rhapsody, a comedy, you're a symphony and a play, you're every love song ever written, but honey what do you see in me?”

The audience joined in boisterously for the chorus, and then let Ian sing the next part.

“You're an essay in glamor, please pardon the grammar but you're every schoolboy's dream You're Celtic United, but baby I've decided you're the best team I've ever seen. And there have been many affairs, many times I've thought to leave. But I bite my lip and turn around ‘cause you're the warmest thing I've ever found.”

By this point, the audience noticed that Ian was singing to a certain someone, so they all turned around towards the bar to sing the chorus again, while Ian jumped down from the stage and made his way to Mickey. He stopped a few feet from him, giving Mickey the puppy eyes. Mickey took a deep breath and then took the couple of steps between him and Ian and looked helplessly into his eyes. The crowd let out a big cheer when Mickey lunged into a kiss. Ian kissed him back with all he had, and when they broke apart Mickey muttered, “You’re a fuckin’ dick.” Ian broke into a beaming smile.

They left the bar and walked back to the hotel, sneaking looks at each other every few steps. They were quiet-Ian was thinking about some things he wanted to say to Mickey, but knew it’d be better when they could talk without people milling around them.

Back in the hotel room, Mickey spoke up first. “Just cuz we’re gonna bang doesn’t mean I’m okay with you separating the kids.”

“I know, Mickey. I promise you, I’ll find a way that we can all be together.”

Mickey gave him a skeptical look. “Ian, we never end well, we can’t drag the kids into it.”

Ian shook his head. “We’re not gonna end again. I’m not going to run away from you ever again. I’m not going to presume to make decisions for you anymore-if you’re willing to take me back knowing about the bipolar and what it might lead to, who am I to stop you? Taking your son in, I finally realized that loving someone and taking care of them when they need it and you want to isn’t a burden. If you want me back, I’m yours-I’ve always been yours.”

Mickey looked away for a moment, and then back at Ian. “Christ, Ian, it can’t be that easy…” he began. Before Ian could speak he added, “But I want it to be. C’mere.” He stepped right up to Ian and they kissed, deep and hot. They managed to get their clothes off, and Mickey herded Ian over to the bed and got him down on his back, kissing him all the while.

“Where’s the shit?” Mickey panted into Ian’s mouth.

“My...my jacket, and my wallet,” Ian managed to get out. He was having trouble concentrating on anything but Mickey’s body just then. Mickey got off the bed and found the stuff. When he returned to Ian, Ian tried to reposition himself but Mickey grabbed him by the arms and wrestled him back down and crawled on top of him, his thighs trapping Ian’s.

“Gonna ride you,” Mickey told him. Ian briefly thought how Mickey was the only one who could manhandle him in a good way. Caleb had dictated when and how they’d have sex, Trevor whined at him to get everything he wanted and only how he wanted it, his family tried to control him. With Mickey everything was give and take, and Ian had the chance to state his position if it clashed with Mickey’s. Right now he was completely on board with the position Mickey wanted them in.

Mickey got Ian sheathed and lubed and settled himself above Ian. He took him in slowly, watching Ian’s eyes the whole time and letting him see the reaction their bodies connecting had on him. He took a moment once he was seated on top of Ian and let his fingertips lightly brush down one of Ian’s cheeks. Then he began to move, rocking and lifting and working them both up into a state of bliss.

After a bit, Ian surged up into a sitting position and Mickey stopped moving and they kissed and Ian realized this wasn’t about getting off, or getting each other to come, this was more than their bodies being connected-their whole beings were together. His life only truly felt complete when he was with Mickey.

They had to part for air and Ian noticed Mickey had his hands buried in Ian’s hair, and Ian’s hands were gripping Mickey’s waist so tight he had to be leaving bruises. They breathed hotly into each other’s mouths and slowly Mickey began rocking again, his hard cock mashed in between them. Ian took his right hand from Mickey’s waist and gently and firmly wrapped it around Mickey’s shaft, stoking to match Mickey’s rhythm. Mickey picked up the pace and Ian put his other hand behind him to balance himself as he began lifting his hips to thrust into Mickey. Mickey leaned back in for a sloppy kiss and then bit down on Ian’s lip as his orgasm hit. His ass was clenching around Ian in the best way, and Ian came. Mickey rested his head on Ian’s shoulder as they rode out their orgasms, their movements slowing down and eventually stopping.

“That was fucking good,” Mickey murmured into Ian’s skin, and Ian could hear the bliss in his voice.

“Fucking fantastic,” Ian agreed, smoothing Mickey’s sex hair down with his hand. He let his hand rest gently on the back of Mickey’s neck and Mickey kissed his shoulder.

Mickey groaned a little as he pushed up off Ian’s lap, slowly detaching them from each other. “Okay, tonight I’m definitely having a shower, but Imma need a minute before I can walk.” He struggled to reposition himself onto the bed next to Ian, rather than on top of him. His legs just wouldn’t do what he needed them to do gracefully.

Ian grinned proudly into Mickey’s eyes. He had done that-reduced Mickey to jelly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some fun facts:  
> I wrote this chapter long before Cam's tweet about "that guy from Gotham" and his "great" ass (oh, Cam, not to body shame but you literally worked with Noel Fisher, who has the Cadillac of asses. Yours is good enough, at best).
> 
> The story of Mickey's ID was straight up lifted from White Collar-Mozzie knew a guy...
> 
> I had Mickey order Canadian Club because that was my dad's favorite-he didn't drink it straight though, he'd have it on the rocks with ginger ale-a "CC and ginger" was how he always referred to it and having ginger in the name of it makes me think of both Noel and Cam ;) BTW, Mickey never drank the second, single shot he ordered in my head canon-he got too distracted by Gallagher continuing on with the song ;) 
> 
> Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter! I THINK there's probably only one more and an epilogue to come (getting into unchartered territory here, I haven't finished the next chapter or begun an epilogue beyond some notes). I didn't plan it this way, but I'd be pleased as punch if my story and Ian's on the show ended at about the same time ;) Can't wait to hear the swan song-if it includes Mickey, ofc.


	6. Chapter 6

 

The next morning they parted on good terms. They had a plan in place for talking over burner phones (just in case Ian was still under any kind of surveillance), and Mickey gave Ian his post office box address (“Maybe you could, uh, I dunno, mail me those pool pictures, if the kids made any for me?” Ian assured him they had and they would send them ASAP). Mickey even gave Ian the number for the beauty shop, in case of an emergency where his burner wasn’t working. Ian’s head was already filling with plans of how they could get back together, but he wanted to wait and pick the best ideas to discuss with Mickey once he was back in Mexico. Knowing they’d be able to talk by phone now took a lot of pressure off to get things settled right away.

Mickey gave Ian a passionate kiss goodbye, and held on to him after it was done. Ian tried to push Mickey’s short bangs up into a semblance of his old quiff. Mickey closed his eyes for a few seconds letting himself enjoy these final touches before he’d have to be parted from Ian again.

When Mickey opened his eyes again Ian kissed him one last time and finally let Mickey go so he could walk out the hotel room door. When he put his hand on the doorknob he took one look back at Mickey.

“Talk to ya soon, Gallagher,” Mickey said.

It wasn’t enough, but it’d have to do for now.

“I love you, Mick.”

Mickey’s lips twitched into an almost smile. “You too.” Ian nodded his head, once. He told himself it was enough, then Mickey said, “I love you, Ian.”

Ian ran back down the little hallway and slammed into Mickey, wrapping his arms around him tight. Mickey hugged back, just as hard.

“Okay, man, you gotta let me go-my cab will be here soon,” Mickey said gently. “And our boys are waiting for you.”

Ian pulled away reluctantly and nodded.

“I’ll give them a hug for you.”

“Promise me you’ll go gentler on them than you did me just now-they’re little,” Mickey said, and gave Ian a mock stern look. Ian nodded, kissed Mickey again, and left.

Over the next couple of months they talked almost every night on the phone. Making plans, discussing arrangements, Ian kept Mickey informed of all the kids’ activities. They avoided any relationship discussions for the most part-talking about the past was too dangerous when they were thousands of miles apart and couldn’t reassure each other with hugs and sex; and talking about their sex life was too painful when they weren’t together and couldn’t act on things they wanted to do.

Mickey swore Ian had finally stumbled into the legendary luck of the Irish-all he had to do was ask Svetlana if she would move to Mexico with Yevgeny and she was down.

“Me and luck had nothing to do with it, Mick,” Ian had said when he had called with the news and Mickey voiced that theory. “She said she’s ready for a change and wants to feel the sun on her tits, not the biting cold of Chicago.”

“Is that a direct quote?” Mickey laughed.

“Would I use the word ‘tits’ otherwise?” Ian replied, laughing also. “She also said she wants the kids to be trilingual-and to be brothers.”

When Mickey called Svetlana (he checked in about once a week with her now), she told him she was definitely all in for moving south, and she also told Mickey wanted the boys to be brothers and added, “And have both their fathers.”

Mickey wanted to be sure that meant what he thought it meant. “You want me and Ian to be fathers to both boys?”

“I know, it is surprise. But I talked to orange head sister, she said Ian is stable, has been for a long time. He goes to therapist to keep on top of it-if he starts to slip people will notice, it’s not like before. I talked to Carrot Boy, he says he will definitely get a new therapist down there right away. He has been good for Yevgeny and the other Ian, I have been watching.”

The time seemed to both drag and fly by for Ian. He felt like it was forever till he would see Mickey again, but the time he had left to spend with his family was gone before he knew it. Although the lectures from Fiona and Lip did make it easier to say goodbye when the time came.

By December, everything was set. Svetlana and Yevgeny had passports with their new last name, courtesy of Svetlana’s Russian connections. “I was never legally married to Milkovich or Ball, why keep one of those names?” They also wanted her off law enforcement’s radar too. Their new last name was Rostova, and when Ian asked if there was a reason she picked that, Svetlana told him, “Read War and Peace”.

Ian had discussed if he should change his last name too with Mickey, and had even asked Lip for advice. Neither one thought it was necessary, Gallagher was a common enough name and it had been over two years since Mickey’s escape. Lip didn’t think the federal government would have the time or resources to be keeping tabs on Ian, and he knew the Chicago PD didn’t.

“Plus, for all the computers being used in law enforcement, they rarely are compatible with computers in different jurisdictions and agencies. Movies make it look like they can find anyone, anywhere, with a few keystrokes but it’s really not that easy,” Lip reassured Ian.

Svetlana and Ian had obtained work visas too. Mickey already had jobs lined up for them at the resort. For now Ian was going to be a lifeguard while he looked into options about being an EMT there (like Mickey, he thought not speaking Spanish would be a big stumbling block in dealing with people), and Svetlana was going to tend bar a couple nights a week. Ian and Mickey would be working days, so Svetlana needed to be free to watch the kids when they got home from school, but she also wanted to work and have a life outside of the home and a chance to meet people.

The big day finally arrived. Svetlana, Ian, and the boys were picked up at the Playa De Oro International Airport by the resort’s courtesy shuttle because Mickey was still leery about going to airports, especially if their flight was delayed and he’d have to stick around for a while. Besides, Mickey wanted the kids-and Ian-riding in the safest vehicle possible.   They needed to buy a safer car to drive the kids around in. Mickey had an eighteen year old beater he had bought on the cheap when he first started earning some money, but he wanted something better for his loved ones to ride around in.

The shuttle bus pulled up to the curb in front of a pale yellow adobe two story house and Svetlana and the two boys and Ian and the driver all got out. Mickey was outside to greet them-Ian had texted him when they were leaving the resort after dropping off all the hotel’s customers.

Mickey was wearing a plain white T shirt and cargo shorts (the only shorts Ian had ever seen Mickey in were boxers, and that was always indoors) and he had huarache sandals on his feet and aviator sunglasses on his face. Ian had never seen him look so relaxed, plus he was so damn hot. Ian hoped the boys were tuckered out from the plane ride and would fall asleep early. Ian knew he was staring with his mouth open, but he could feel Mickey’s burning look back at him from behind the sunglasses.

“Dad! You won’t believe where our suitcases are!” Yevgeny yelled, breaking them out of their mutual trance. Svetlana had explained Mickey’s relationship to the boy when it was decided they’d be moving to Mexico. Yevgeny said he thought he’d remembered Mickey, a little bit. They were still waiting to tell young Ian everything-they thought maybe he’d been through enough parental upheaval for now.

Mickey smiled at Yev. “You’ll have to show me, buddy.” Then he gave the driver a bro hug and said, “Thanks for bringing everybody, Jorge.”

The driver gave Mickey a big, warm smile. “It was my pleasure to bring you your beautiful family.” In a lower voice that everyone could still hear he added, “Your redhead is so handsome.”

Mickey blushed, but directed his gaze back at Ian and said, “Told you so.”

“You did, you did!” Jorge said, slapping Mickey on the back. Since Jorge was roughly the size of a Chicago Bears lineman, Mickey sort of staggered after the second slap.

“Mr. Jorge! Can we get the suitcases now, please?” young Ian asked politely. He and Yev were standing next to the shuttle bus patiently, but they could only wait so long.

“Of course!” Jorge walked over and opened the compartment under the side of the bus and the boys scrambled to get their back packs.

“Look, Dad, all the luggage rides under the bus! All the people we left at the hotel had theirs under here too,” Yevgeny explained.

“That’s cool,” Mickey said, smiling down at the beaming faces of the two boys.

When Svetlana went to reach for one of the suitcases, Jorge put a gentle hand on her arm and said, “Please, allow me, pretty lady.” Mickey rolled his eyes, but Svetlana batted her eyelashes at Jorge and murmured something about him being “so strong”.

“Is she back into dudes?” Mickey asked Ian. Ian shrugged.

“But what’s this about me being ‘your’ redhead?” Ian asked.

“Since you and Svetlana will both be working at the hotel plus living with me, I didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings,” Mickey muttered in a matter-of-fact tone. “Didn’t want anyone hitting on you, thinking I had an old lady.”

Ian laughed a delighted laugh at that. “You told them I’m your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend, life partner, lover, whatever.”

Ian looked at him in amazement.

“Hey, my Spanish still ain’t good-wanted to be sure I covered all the bases so they’d keep their hands off.”

“Dad?” Yev was pulling on one of the pockets on Mickey’s shorts. “Does King Triton live at your hotel?” Young Ian stopped watching Jorge pulling out the bags and ran over to hear the answer as well.

“King Triton?” Mickey asked, and looked to Ian and Svetlana for a clue.

“From movie, he’s the Little Mermaid’s father,” Svetlana explained.

“Oh,” Mickey said, nodding. “Uh, no, he doesn’t live there, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he took a vacation there a time or two.”

Adult Ian could almost believe it. He had been overwhelmed when he saw the huge, palatial, shiny white hotel. He remembered thinking that the Midway Holiday Inn was probably the second nicest hotel Mickey had ever been in, but the Barcelo Karmina resort blew that theory to hell. Kings and mermaids probably did stay there on their vacations.

Jorge had all their bags out of the shuttle, and Svetlana had their winter coats in a bundle under her arm. They’d been stowed with the luggage-it had been nineteen degrees when they left Chicago, but it was eighty in Manzanillo, Colima. They had arrived right at the beginning of the “cool” season, where the temperature would stay right around eighty every day, but being by the ocean, the climate was temperate and the average highs in the non-winter months usually didn’t rise above the mid-eighties.

They all got to work bringing the bags in and leaving them in the entryway; even Jorge pitched in and carried some, rather than letting Svetlana try to pick one up. They had already shipped most of their stuff to the amigas beauty shop, winnowing out their winter clothing and leaving it behind.

Mickey gave Jorge a six pack of beer and thanked him again for transporting the group.

“It was nothing!” Jorge insisted. “Twenty minutes out of my way, tops. But I do have to get back to the airport for the next group. I’ll see you all soon!”

They all thanked him and waved as he drove off down the street.

“Mickey? Where’s the ocean?” young Ian asked once they couldn’t see the shuttle any longer.

“’Bout two blocks that way,” Mickey said, pointing.

“Can we go there?” The two boys looked up at Mickey excitedly.

“Don’t you wanna see the house first? We can bring the suitcases to everybody’s rooms and then get out your bathing suits on and head over there,” Mickey said.

“Okay!”

Mickey led them all back into the house. The first room he brought them to was the living room, which had windows facing the street and the side yard. There was a flat screen tv set up, a couple of overstuffed chairs, a coffee table, and a big, beat up looking couch. Ian and Svetlana knew Mickey had been furnishing the house with second hand stuff, and now Svetlana was giving the couch a dubious look.

“I know it don’t look like much, but wait till you sit on it,” Mickey said. “Boys, give it a try and let her know what you think.”

The kids ran to the couch and climbed up on it. It was soft and comfortable.

“Mom, it’s like sitting on a cloud!” Yevgeny marveled.

“Come sit on it, Auntie, you’ll like it!” Svetlana made her way over and surreptitiously gave a little sniff before setting down on it. She wriggled her ass a bit and raised her eyebrows.

“Not bad,” she had to admit.

“Come on, Svetlana, your bedroom’s this way,” Mickey said with a smug smirk.

The room behind the living room was big and airy, with two windows each on the two outside walls. There were fancy white painted wrought iron bars on all the downstairs windows. The floor was wooden, and mostly uncovered except for a round chenille rug right next to the bed. A ceiling fan was turning above the bed itself, which was queen size. The bedstead was a painted white metal, and the four posters had porcelain balls with painted roses on them. The rug was a dusty rose, and the curtains were white sheer material with a frilly valance going across the top of each. Against one of the windowless walls there was a vanity with a little bench that had a tufted velvet seat of off-white. A tall wardrobe chest and a bureau were on the other windowless wall.

Mickey was chewing on his thumbnail nervously. “I don’t know if I went too girly in here, we can always get different shit...” he began.

Svetlana, who had been standing in the middle of the room taking everything in, turned to him with tears shining in her eyes. “This is just the type of room I dreamed of having when I was a young girl,” she said, and quickly came over to Mickey and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you so much.”

“Hey, watch the shades,” Mickey groused, pulling them out of the V of his t shirt. “You’re gonna smush them.”

Svetlana planted a big wet kiss on his cheek. “You did good-maybe there’s a career for you in interior decorating.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, but Svetlana and Ian could tell how pleased he was that Svetlana liked the room.

Mickey led them to the kitchen next, which was small but still had room for a table they could all fit at. There was a utility porch off the kitchen that had a washer and dryer that looked like they were built before any of the grown-ups were born, but Mickey said he’d used them and they ran fine.

Mickey brought them out into the backyard and then showed them there was an outdoor shower on the side of the house. It was basically a shower head on a pole surrounded by some stockade fencing with a door that latched on the outside and hooked shut on the inside. The floor was a raised pallet over a dipped cement slab with a drain in the middle of it, and Mickey had put a blue slotted bathtub mat shaped like a big footprint and made of cushy slotted vinyl over the boards.

“This is really good when you get back from the beach covered in sand,” Mickey said. “Gets all the salt off your skin too.” There was also a board shelf midway up the stockade fencing on the inside that even the kids could reach. Mickey already had a bottle of shampoo and an enclosed plastic soap dish on it.

Mickey led them back inside to continue the tour.

The master bath was on the first floor, across from Svetlana’s room and between the kitchen and the front room on that side of the house. It was a full bath, with a tub that had a shower head, plus a toilet and sink with a big mirror over it. Mickey had splurged and bought brand new stuff for the bathroom-the shower curtain was a bright light blue and he found hand towels and facecloths that were a close match.

They looked in on the other front room, which was smaller than the living room since space for the bathroom was taken from it. “Figured this could be a playroom or something,” Mickey said. “Now, who’s ready to see the upstairs?”

The boys were all for that idea, and everyone grabbed a suitcase and trudged up the staircase that was in the front hall. Mickey opened the door to one of the corner rooms at the front of the house, which was on the same side as Svetlana’s room downstairs, but not directly over it. There were two single beds set up, decked out with Star Wars sheets and lightweight blankets folded neatly over the foot of each bed. There were little plastic toy boxes at the end of both the beds that looked like treasure chests.

“Is this one ours?” Yevgeny asked.

“If you like it,” Mickey said.

“We love it!” Ian said, speaking for both of them. They rushed in and discussed who should get which bed. The adults had expected the boys would want to be in the same room, but the house did have two other bedrooms free if they ever wanted to have their own.

Once the kids had explored their room a bit, the tour of the house continued. Mickey took them across the hall and explained the other front room was full of stuff they had shipped to the beauty shop. “We’ll get it all sorted and put away where it belongs and then save up for some furniture so it can be a guest room,” Mickey said. “Maybe instead of a bed we could find a futon or something.” He opened the door next to that room to reveal the upstairs bathroom. Instead of a tub it only had a walk-in shower, which had a colorful shower curtain of cartoon monkeys swinging on vines. The boys loved it.

“Maybe you really do have some interior decorator in you,” Ian murmured right into Mickey’s ear. He was standing behind Mickey, very close. Mickey shrugged, but before Ian could say anything more, his eyes fell on the toothbrush rack hanging by the sink. There were four toothbrushes in it, two were small-blue and green, and two were big-red and yellow. Ian broke into a happy grin. Mickey caught it, glancing back at him.

“The mirror opens up, and there’s shelves in there, for like, medicine and shi…stuff,” Mickey said, trying to watch his language around the kids. “For, you know.”

He felt Ian nod behind him.

“What is this room?” Svetlana said, going to the next door and opening it. It wasn’t a room at all, but rather a linen closet. The shelves stopped about halfway down, and Mickey had a hamper already in place on the floor. The shelves were stocked with towels and sheets, and the very top shelf had several different types of sunscreen, all with high SPF’s. Ian was just tall enough to see that behind the sun protection there were at least three big tubes of lube. He smiled happily-Mickey caught that too and gave him an eyebrow raise.

“There’s another bedroom next to the kids’ room too,” Mickey said, “but right now it’s just empty. So, that just leaves, uh, the master bedroom.”

The group followed Mickey down the hall and when he opened the door, he kept his eyes on Ian. Ian’s eyes lit up as he took in his surroundings. Like all the bedrooms, there were windows on two of the walls, letting in light and fresh sea breezes through the slats in Venetian blinds that were strategically opened to keep out heat.   There was also a ceiling fan that spun lazily above the double bed. There were night stands on either side of the bed, two tall chests of drawers, a bookcase, and a closet. There was also a sliding door that led out to a balcony or deck. Mickey had tacked up a colorful Mexican blanket on one wall. The walls in all the upstairs rooms were painted the same neutral sandy color, warmer than light beige. The bed was made up with light blue sheets and just like in the boys’ room, there was a summer weight blanket neatly folded at the bottom of it. The furniture was all used and none of it matched, but somehow the room looked beautiful.

“It’s perfect,” Ian said, his voice filled with awe, as his eyes found Mickey’s.

“I figure maybe you’d want to hang some pictures from ho…Chicago, or maybe you’d want to scrounge the swap meets and second hand stores for art or whatever,” Mickey said. He had left the walls in the other bedrooms bare for that very reason, so their occupants could put up whatever they liked.

“I kinda like it like this,” Ian said, looking around. “It’s…I don’t know, peaceful or something.”

“Very nice room,” Svetlana voiced her opinion, breaking the eye lock Ian and Mickey were sharing. She opened the closet door to reveal a full length mirror there, and the fact that Mickey had left plenty of room for Ian’s clothes to hang with his. “Where does the glass door lead to?” Svetlana added, closing the closet door.

“It’s uh, a porch, or deck or whatever, built out over the utility room. Come on, I’ll show you,” Mickey said, motioning with his head for everyone to follow.

It was a sweet little spot-there was a faded red canvas awning hanging over thick wood beams, providing shade, and the deck faced out over the back yard. There was a low wall covered in the same adobe as the house on three sides, and the house itself finished off the rectangle. There were a couple of aluminum lawn chairs with webbing set up by a small round table, and a solid looking lounge chair with an iron frame. There were two little plastic chairs that looked just right for the boys. Along the low wall there were colorful ceramic pots, and in the corner there was a mini-palm tree looking plant in a bucket.

“This is cool!” Yevgeny said, and dashed towards the wall to look at the yard.

“Be careful!” Svetlana shouted. The four guys all turned to look at her. She had her back plastered up against the wall of the house and didn’t look like she wanted to go any further.

“Yevgeny, you and Ian are never to come out here without a grownup. Do you understand?” Both boys nodded solemnly. “And be very careful near the edge,” she added emphatically.

“Svetlana, it’s safe. The floor is sturdy and the walls are high enough that they won’t fall out…” Mickey tried.

“No kids without the grownups,” she reiterated. Everyone nodded.

“Daddy, can we go see the ocean now?” young Ian asked after everyone except Svetlana had looked at the backyard view.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Ian said. “We gotta find everyone’s bathing suits and put on sunscreen though.”

Mickey got towels together for everyone while Svetlana and Ian helped the kids find their bathing suits and beach hats and flip flops. They walked as a group over to the beach. The surf was mild and the kids were giggling as they let the waves chase them on the packed, wet sand, the white foam tickling their feet.

Ian was staring at the expanse of the Pacific Ocean. Mickey was staring at Ian.

“It’s even more beautiful than I imagined,” Ian breathed.

“You like it?” Mickey asked. It was important to him to know.

Ian pulled his eyes away from the ocean. “I love it. Sorry I’m late. I could’ve been enjoying this every day…”

“Yeah, but then Angie wouldn’t have found you. It worked out, Gallagher,” Mickey answered.

They spent a couple hours at the beach, swimming with the kids and finding shells and pretty rocks. Svetlana was a big hit with the other people on the beach-she had been wearing a loose gauzy cover-up when they first got there and then she spread out a towel and removed the cover-up to reveal a black bathing suit that looked like a few pieces of macramé strung strategically together. Men and women were intrigued by her beauty. She didn’t go all the way into the warm water, but she did wade around in the shallows and quite a few people took the opportunity to say hello and try to learn more about her.

When it was time to walk home, the boys were tuckered out and Mickey and Ian each carried one. They took turns rinsing the kids-and themselves-off in the outdoor shower and then they put them on the couch to nap while they put a supper together, but the kids barely woke up to eat anything and Svetlana said she’d put them to bed and then turn in herself, it had been a long day.

Ian and Mickey cleaned up the kitchen and kept conversation light. Ian told Mickey the about the kids being excited on their first plane ride, and since it was Ian’s too, he told Mickey how he enjoyed it too. They also talked about the beach and the fun everyone had there.

When the kitchen was set to rights, Mickey grabbed a couple of waters out of the fridge and they went upstairs and out onto the deck. The sun had pretty much set and that side of the house didn’t face west anyway. Mickey walked around, lighting votive candles that were set into the colorful pots on the table and the low wall.

“That’s pretty,” Ian admired, when Mickey had finished lighting the last one and turned to face the house again.

“Got the idea from the beauty shop-the amigas have pots like these with those battery operated candles in them.” Mickey walked over to one of the lawn chairs and sat down. Ian did the same.

“You did a great job of getting this place ready for us,” Ian said.

Mickey blushed, but hoped Ian couldn’t see it in the ever darkening twilight.

“Sorry about the double bed,” Mickey mumbled. “The only decent queen size I could find seemed more like Svetlana’s thing. I was looking for a frame without a footboard, so your huge ass feet could hang off the end.” He grinned and shot a glance at Ian.

“That’s okay-as I recall, some of my happiest memories were made on my little single bed at home. Maybe we should trade with one of the kids…” Ian gave Mickey a big smile.

Mickey snorted. “We could-nothing really matches in any of the rooms anyway.”

“Mick. It’s perfect-the whole house. Thank you for building us this nest,” Ian said sincerely.

“You really like the place?” Mickey said. Ian nodded. “The rent’s reasonable,” Mickey continued, “and we have the option to buy, but I wanted to wait and see if you and Svetlana like it enough to make it permanent-figure we can give it a couple of months.”

“I love it already, but I suppose we should make sure the plumbing’s sound and all that type of shit,” Ian said, all the while thinking he’d live anywhere with Mickey, didn’t matter where or how the house looked. “How much would it cost to buy the house?”

“One point six million Mexican,” Mickey said. Ian choked on the bottle of water he was sipping.   “Relax, Gallagher, that’s like eighty three thousand US. Me and Svetlana have that much, and a bit more, saved.”

“You do?” Ian was surprised.

“Yeah,” Mickey sighed. “I did some jobs for her in prison, plus she’s saved like every dime she made back in the day. Before, I never thought of us throwing in together, but she seems all for it. Anything to get out of Chicago, I guess.”

Ian’s head was spinning a bit at all this. For the first time in his life, was he about to be financially stable? What the hell would that be like? “Isn’t that…too good to be true, or something? Why are houses so cheap this close to the ocean?”

Mickey sort of sighed through his nose. “Well, with the harbor, this city is sort of ideal for drug cartels-a lot of coke moves through here and there’s been some gang violence,” he said. “But nothing worse than you’d run into South Side,” he added quickly. “Like at home you have to know what streets and neighborhoods ain’t safe, right? Well this place is a hell of a lot smaller than Chicago and there’s less bad areas to keep away from. And the resorts are all safe, and are working together to get more cops on the streets where the violence is happening. Right now the cartels think this is a safer bet for them because it doesn’t have the tourist trade like Puerta Vallarta or whatever, but the resorts are enticing more tourist and cruise ship trade, and things are changing. Property values will probably start climbing a lot higher in the next few years.”  

“Do you think Svetlana likes the house enough to want to buy it?” Ian asked. “She loved the room you set up for her, but she seemed freaked out about out here.” Ian gestured with his hand to the balcony they were sitting on.

“I know, right? Svetlana’s afraid of heights? I didn’t think she was afraid of anything,” Mickey said, shaking his head. “Hey, get up-I wanna show you something, but I need your help.”

Ian jumped right up, wondering what Mickey was going to do. Mickey walked to one side of the balcony and motioned with his hand for Ian to go to the opposite side.

“Here, help me flip this up and over,” Mickey said, grabbing onto a corner of the awning and trying to get Ian to see how it could be folded back. Ian caught on quickly and they kept folding the awning back towards the house, over and over, till the wood beams it had been resting on were exposed.

“Look up,” Mickey said.

Ian tilted his head back and saw about a million stars right over his head. They looked close enough to touch.

“Wow,” Ian breathed. “It’s beautiful.” He tore his eyes away from the sight after a couple of moments and caught Mickey looking at him. A warm flush started at his toes and worked its way right up to his scalp.

But practical matters needed to be dealt with first.

“Hey, uh, you mind if I go make myself some toast? Gotta take my pills,” Ian said, looking down at his toes in their flip flops. “You do have a toaster, don’t you?” he added belatedly, thinking maybe that particular appliance wouldn’t have been on Mickey’s list of priorities for the household.

“Of course I got a toaster. Knew your Pop Tart lovin’ ass couldn’t do without.”

“MY Pop Tart lovin’ ass? I think you’ve got me confused with you,” Ian said. “I eat healthy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mickey said.

“Besides, do they even sell Pop Tarts down here?” Ian said.

“Ever hear of Amazon?” Mickey snarked. “Also, there’s a Walmart here in Manzanillo and they have ‘em. You want me to show you where everything is in the kitchen? The toaster’s in a cupboard.”

“I think I can handle it,” Ian said. “Sit, enjoy the stars, I’ll be right back. You want some toast too?” Mickey shook his head, sat down, and Ian headed toward the sliders.

“Hey, Ian?” Mickey called just as he was about to go inside. “Would you make me some Pop Tarts, please?”

Ian returned in a couple of minutes and handed Mickey a plastic plate with two warm strawberry Pop Tarts on it. He was holding the plate with both hands and they were shaking so badly the Pop Tarts almost fell off. Mickey gently took the plate from Ian. He wanted to say something, but he felt like this was one of the things Ian didn’t like people worrying about. So he merely said, “Thanks” and nibbled on the corner of one of the treats. Ian sat down and stuck his hands under his thighs, a tense look on his face.

“You ever think you’d be this warm in December?” Mickey said, startling Ian a little. “But we should cover the kids with their blankets before we turn in. The temperature usually dips down into the sixties this time of year. Back in Chicago when it’d turn sixty-two I’d be cutting the sleeves off my shirts, thinking it was summer weather, but down here I’m putting on my old man sweater and fluffy slippers.”

Ian looked at him askance. “Fluffy slippers?”

“You bet-Ugg knock offs, ordered ‘em online. Got you a pair too, and we’ll have to get some for the kids, but I wanted to wait till they got here so I’d know their size. Svetlana too, but she’ll never tell me her size. Why are women like that? Like I can’t tell she has feet like a sister of Sasquatch the way she stomps around?”

“Fiona has ugly feet,” Ian said, a little smile starting to play around the corners of his mouth. “They look almost webbed, or something. The bones attaching her toes to her foot start way further back than most people, and you can see them clearly under the skin.”

“Creature From The Black Lagoon, huh?” Mickey laughed.

“Something like that.”

“Glad it’s not a family trait,”Mickey said, glancing down at Ian’s feet in his flip flops. “You’ve got nice feet.”

“I do?” Ian asked, surprised. “You think so?”

“Ian, everything on you is perfect, and big feet-and big hands-well, that’s just something I appreciate.”

Ian laughed. Mickey was so relieved Ian seemed happy again.

“So, uh, about my meds…that’s why I don’t take them when the boys are around,” Ian said after a minute.

Personally Mickey didn’t think the kids would care, but he knew this was Ian’s decision to make. And it did make a kind of sense-Mickey could imagine Ian wouldn’t want the kids thinking he wasn’t strong all the time.

“Whatever you gotta do, man,” Mickey said, looking Ian right in the eye when he said it. When it was apparent Ian wasn’t going to say anything more on the subject, Mickey stood up and said, “Check this out.” He walked over to a small portable CD player that was plugged into an outlet in the wall.

He poked the play button and a slow song started to play, with a woman singing in Spanish.

“On my way down here, I stopped to get gas and the place had CDs all in Spanish for like a buck in American money. I saw this one was Gloria Estefan and thought maybe it’d have some songs I used to hear back at the club when you worked there and maybe I’d remember some of the words and would learn what they were in Spanish,” Mickey said. “But they’re all slow and I still don’t know what the fuck she’s sayin’.”

Ian listened to the song for a moment. “Sure sounds pretty, whatever she’s saying.”

“That’s what I think too,” Mickey agreed. “For all I know, she’s singing about hangin’ the wash out on the line, but she makes it sound good.” He was staring at Ian intently, the flickering candles and the stars above shining in his eyes.

“What are you doing here, Mick?”

Mickey looked surprised and puzzled by the question. “I…live here?”

“No, what are you doing with all this,” Ian insisted, gesturing with his now-steady hand. “The stars, the music, the candles. Why are you being so romantic?”

“Maybe I’m trying to romance you?” Mickey said, getting slightly exasperated.

“Just like that?”

“Just like-?” Now Mickey was truly exasperated. “I happen to know for a fact you ain’t no blushin’ virgin, Gallagher-am I moving too fast for you?”

“Don’t you think we need to talk some things over first?” Ian said.

Mickey sighed heavily. “We do if you need to. Come on, let’s go check on the kids first.”

They quietly snuck into the boys’ bedroom, but the kids were sleeping soundly. There was enough light coming in from the hallway for Mickey to see they slept in identical positions, flat on their stomachs, each with their left arm crooked up towards their faces, their right cheeks mashed against their pillows. It was the same position Mickey usually found himself in when he woke up.

“Christ, they really are mine, aren’t they?” he whispered. He glanced at Ian, who was looking at the kids fondly.

“They really are-I see you in them all the time, in a million little ways,” Ian said. “Even Svetlana sees it-I think it’s why she was willing to come down here. These guys make us miss you, the more they get like you.”

Mickey didn’t know what to say to that, so he walked over to the foot of the furthest bed, which Ian had claimed, and unfolded the blanket and gently spread it over his son. The boy was clutching his Scottie dog in his right arm, which he had somehow miraculously kept clean and pristine white since the day of his adoption, despite taking the toy everywhere he went except school. Ian put a blanket over Yevgeny, who slept with a stuffed turtle they had bought him on a trip to the aquarium. It was half as big as Yev, and covered in a very soft plush. They watched the boys sleep for another moment and then went back to the balcony. Gloria was still singing in Spanish, and Ian walked over to the CD player and turned the volume down even more. When he turned around, Mickey was right there.

“Hey,” Ian breathed out on a sigh.

“Hey,” Mickey said, looking up into Ian’s eyes. Ian looked back into Mickey’s, the starlight and flickering candles reflecting in the blue. He could see Mickey was about to kiss him, so he backed up a step.

“We gonna talk now?” Ian asked.

Mickey blinked, then rubbed his thumb across his chin.

“We will if you want to, what’s up?” Mickey said, and reminded himself that Ian had had a long day traveling with the kids and leaving almost everything he ever knew behind. He was determined to try to be more patient with Ian than he used to be.

“It’s just…Lip said,” Ian began, then stopped. Mickey’s patience flew right out the metaphorical window. He could be patient for Ian, but not for his asshole brother.

“What are you listening to that mook for?” Mickey couldn’t help but growl.

“I know, but, listen. He is smart about some things, you know,” Ian said. Mickey wanted to say Lip wasn’t smart when it came to relationships or Milkoviches, but he bit his tongue. When Ian saw Mickey was going to let him continue he said, “Lip asked me before I left if I had given you a chance to say no to this, to back out if you wanted, and I realized I hadn’t.” Mickey was going to speak but Ian kept talking. “All the phone calls, even before you left Chicago-Lip’s right, I didn’t give you a chance. It’s just like when we were kids-I just kept pushing and pushing for what I wanted, never taking time to ask you if you wanted it too.”

The stood in silence for a moment.

“That it? Is that all the poison he put in your head? Or is there more? Out with it, Gallagher, I want to know how much that asshole did to try to sabotage us.”

Ian looked surprised. “I don’t think he was doing it on purpose…”

“Of fucking course he was!” Mickey took a deep breath. He didn’t want to take out his aggression towards Lip for this shit on Ian. It wasn’t Ian’s fault. He’d only had his big brother and sister to lean on for long stretches in his life even after Mickey came into it. Mickey couldn’t blame Ian for still being influenced by what they thought. “Ian, look-my whole life, I’ve been taking care of myself. When shit wasn’t to my liking, I’d say so.”

“Yeah, but you’d also suck it up and find a way to make stuff you didn’t want work out anyway. I don’t want you stuck with me, Mickey.”

“Are you shittin’ me? I told you, you’re under my skin. I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want you.”

“But I’ve done so much to hurt you-I gotta make it up to you, apologize…”

“Ian. I’ve done my share to you too. We can rehash the past if you want to, but know right now I forgive you for anything that happened, even if there’s stuff I don’t know about-it’s in the past, I’m leaving it there. All I need to know is we’re in love, and by some miracle getting a fresh start-that’s enough for me. Sharks keep moving forward or they die, right? All I ever wanted was us, together. No one is guaranteed a life without any trouble. I’m not going to go looking for it, but when it comes again, we’ll handle it, whatever it is. You being with me is the only thing I’ve ever needed in my life, Ian. And now I’ve got that, and the kids and the house are gravy on the dog food.” He took a step and a half to put himself right in front of Ian and put his hands on his shoulders. Ian automatically reached up and put his hands on Mickey’s. “I’m happy, Ian. You’ve made me happy.”

Ian’s eyes were filled with tears. “Shit, Mick, I was supposed to make the big speech and try to make up for…”

“Would you stop?” Mickey said, smiling. He leaned in the last couple inches and kissed Ian deeply, their mouths open and gentle.

“I’ve wanted to be on you since we got here,” Ian breathed out when they parted for air.

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” Mickey grinned. “I saw you checking me out.”

“Oh yeah?” Ian was sounding happier by the second.

“Yeah-when I was checking you out. Fuckin’ take my breath away like it’s the first time, every time I see you.”

“Yeah?” Ian said, surprised this time.

“Yeah,” Mickey whispered, and kissed Ian again. His pulled back and opened his eyes, looking right into Ian’s. “There, it happened again.”

Ian practically swooned. “Let’s go break in that bed-should we blow out the candles?”

“They’ll burn out soon enough, let’s go,” Mickey said, and pulled Ian towards the sliding glass door to their bedroom.

Ian hadn’t thought he’d get much sleep, but after making love to Mickey he fell into a deep sleep that lasted till the sounds of seagulls cawing woke him up. He was wrapped around Mickey and he raised his head to see Mickey was in the same position the kids had been in last night, only his left arm was wrapped around Ian, not a stuffed animal. Ian grinned at that thought and lowered his head to the back of Mickey’s neck and he inhaled deeply. Mickey’s hair may be blond, but he still smelled the same as always. Ian loved that scent.

Ian extracted himself from Mickey as gently as possible, but Mickey woke up anyway.

“Ian, it’s gotta be like six in the morning,” Mickey grumbled after cracking open one blue eye to judge the dim pre-dawn light in the room.

“Just wanna take my pills before the kids get up. I’ll be right back,” Ian whispered. He left the room and soon returned with a plate of toast and Pop Tarts. He got his pills off the top of the dresser and held them in the same hand as a bottle of water.

“Good call on the water-I meant to tell all of you don’t drink it from the tap,” Mickey said.

“Don’t drink the water in Mexico?” Ian asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a real thing?”

“In this house it is,” Mickey said. “It tastes gross. Gotta get a filter on the kitchen sink, maybe one of those pitcher things too. Is one of those Pop Tarts for me? Gimme.”

Ian laughed softly and held the plate towards Mickey. Ian ate an entire piece of toast and then swallowed down his pills and started nibbling on the other piece of toast.

“You always wake up this early?” Mickey asked. Ian hadn’t been much of an early riser in Chicago except during his manic phases.

“Naw, those birds woke me up-they do that every morning?”

“Probably-you get used to it,” Mickey said. “Seems like they didn’t wake the kids up-that’s good.” Mickey had plans for Ian now that they were both awake.

“Think we should tell them Ian’s your son today?” Ian asked. They had figured they’d wait till they were all in Mexico. Ian’s therapist agreed they should wait until they were all together again to tell the boys, but she also told Ian not to sweat it. She felt to the kids it wouldn’t be a big, complicated deal even if, for the grownups, putting this family together took a lot of effort. The boys were already close, they’d ease into being a family, especially when it was established for them that they’d all be living together.

“We gotta talk about this now?” Mickey asked, feeling like the chance to have Ian get on him was flying out the window.

“They’ll be up soon, Mick. No matter how tired they were yesterday, they went to bed early and slept right through. We don’t have much alone time to discuss this.”

“We should get Svetlana’s input…”

“She’s up, I saw her in the kitchen.”

Mickey groaned. He knew Ian liked having things settled, but Mickey could’ve enjoyed another half hour in their bubble. But he could settle for less.

“Okay, let me suck your dick and then we can go downstairs and talk to her,” Mickey said.

“Wha…what?” Ian stammered.

“You don’t want your dick sucked? Is it too sore from last night?”

“Well, no-I mean no it’s not sore.”

“So that’s a yes on wanting it sucked?” Mickey asked.

“Well, yeah, I always want it…don’t you want me to suck yours?”

“Sure, when we have more time. I’ll just do you now. It’ll relax me.”

Ian barked out a little laugh. “If you insist…” he said, putting the plate with one Pop Tart on the night stand. His hands were beginning to shake, but he barely noticed, since he barely had time to put them behind him to lift his hips so Mickey could pull his boxers off, which Mickey had been trying to do the moment the plate left Ian’s hand. Ian soon found he didn’t mind the fact his hands were shaking when he could bury them in Mickey’s hair and Mickey liked it. He had started to pull them away when he realized, but Mickey stopped him.

“Feels good, leave them,” Mickey popped off from sucking long enough to say. Ian let his hands rest back on Mickey’s head and his fingers and palms gave Mickey a nice massage while he was occupied with making Ian feel good.

Ian came, Mickey swallowed, and Ian flopped back onto his back. “You really don’t need me to…” he began, once he had his breath back.

“Ian, as everyone who attended Yevgeny’s christening knows, I fuckin’ love suckin’ your dick.” He wiped the back of his hand against his chin and grinned. “Gonna brush my teeth and grab a quick shower, then we’ll go talk to Svet.”  

Once Ian got his breath back and had basked in the afterglow for a few minutes, he made his way to the bathroom and softly tapped on the door. Mickey opened it and stepped back to the sink with a grin. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and was putting product in his hair. He had let his bangs grow since he had been in Chicago and was wearing them like he used to when his hair was black.

“What’s that stuff?” Ian asked. “It smells nice.”

“Some hair wax shit from the amigas,” Mickey said.

“I like it,” Ian smiled into Mickey’s reflection in the mirror. “Okay if I jump in the shower?”

Mickey took his eyes off his hair in the mirror and darted a look at Ian. “Before you do,” Mickey turned around so they were face to face, “do you really think now’s a good time to tell the kid he’s mine?”

Ian could see the nervousness in Mickey’s face. “You think there’s a reason to wait?” he asked gently.

Mickey let out a sigh. “Not really. Just-what if the kid’s disappointed?”

“Why the hell would he be disappointed?” Ian asked with genuine surprise.

“He’s got you for a dad, why would he want…” Mickey let the sentence trail off.

“Mickey, why would he want you? Because you’re great and he already loves you?”

“Think you’re confusing your feelings with his,” Mickey said, looking down at the floor.

“I’m not. Mickey, since he met you, you’re all he and Yev ever talk about. When they found out we were moving here, and the whole time on the plane, he talked about you. He’s crazy about you, I know it.”

“But what if I’m a shitty dad? My track record so far hasn’t been great.”

“It has too,” Ian insisted. “All the things that kept you away from both boys was shit that was beyond your control when it happened.”

“It doesn’t come natural to me like it does to you, they’re better off with you.”

“They’ve got us both, and I love them because they’re yours.”

“You’d love ‘em anyways,” Mickey said, smiling softly because it was true. Ian had the biggest heart.

“You’d love ‘em anyways too if they weren’t yours-they’re pretty great,” Ian said, knowing for a fact that Mickey’s capacity to love was the most powerful he’d ever found. Mickey just needed a space to feel like he was “allowed” to show that love. “Hey, if you’re not ready,” Ian said softly, pulling Mickey into a hug, “we’ll wait until you are. But believe me, he’s gonna be happy.”

“Okay,” Mickey said with a nod, “we tell him today. But what if he asks why I wasn’t around?”

“We tell him the truth, that his mom didn’t have a way to tell you till just recently and that we wanted to all be together when we told him-but, honestly, Mick, I bet it won’t even come up now. Maybe later when he’s older, but maybe not even then. Kids are flexible, like my therapist said. He’s loved and with people he loves, I don’t think anything beyond that is going to matter.”

After Ian’s shower they got dressed and went downstairs together. Svetlana was at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. “Where are children?” she asked, when she saw the men walk in without them.

“Still sleeping, we checked in on them,” Mickey said.

Svetlana got up and walked to the bottom of the staircase. “Boys!” she yelled. “Breakfast is ready!” She walked back into the kitchen and slammed a box of Froot Loops and a bottle of milk on the table.

“They had a big day yesterday, don’t you think we should let them…” Ian began.

“If they sleep all day they’ll be up all night,” Svetlana said in a voice that brooked no arguments.

The kids tumbled into the kitchen in their jammies, their hair tousled and their eyes bright. They didn’t look any worse for wear being woken up so abruptly.

“Morning, Daddy, morning, Auntie, morning, Mickey!” Ian’s voice was sweet and happy.

“Morning, Mama,” Yev said, giving the side of his mom’s leg a squeeze. “Morning, Dad and Uncle Ian.”

As soon as the boys had climbed into their chairs Svetlana said, “Mickey has something to tell you.”

Mickey blinked at Svetlana. Pushy Russian bitch he wanted to mutter, but didn’t. He thought he’d at least let the kids eat first.

“Well, ah, um, Ian,” Mickey stumbled, but then locked eyes with his son. “The thing is…I knew your mom, Angie, right?” Ian nodded, he knew Mickey and his mom had been friends. “And, well, kid-I’m your dad. Is that okay?”

Young Ian took his eyes off of Mickey and looked at older Ian. “Daddy?”

“Yeah, Ian, you remember when I adopted you? And I told you I’ll always be your daddy, but your birth father was out there somewhere and you might meet him one day too? Well, that’s Mickey. He’s your father.”

“Does that make Yevy my brother?”

Ian smiled, “It does.”

“Can he still be my best friend?” Ian asked.

“Of course he can,” all three grownups said almost in unison.

Yevgeny and Ian broke into big smiles.

“And will you still be my daddy too, and Auntie Svetlana will still be my auntie?”

“Yes.” Ian and Svetlana were both nodding.

“Okay. Can I have some cereal please, Dad?” Ian said to Mickey, using the name Yevgeny used for Mickey since Svetlana told him he was his father.

Mickey burst out laughing. “You sure can, buddy.” He poured cereal into the little plastic bowls for both kids. Ian poured the milk for the boys while Mickey poured Froot Loops into his own bowl, then he held the box up with a questioning rise of his eyebrows.

“Oh, what the hell, we’re celebrating. Give me a bowl of that sugar rush too, please,” Ian grinned. Svetlana pushed another bowl towards Mickey.

“Me too,” she said.  

They all agreed at breakfast that going to the beach again would be a great way to spend their day. The grownups packed up a picnic cooler and Mickey got a beach umbrella from the utility porch and they all headed out.

When they got to the beach Svetlana took off her cover up to reveal a very different bathing suit from the day before. Instead of a black stringy thing, this one was a red lycra one piece with straps that met in a T on her back.

“You will watch boys, yes?” she said. Ian and Mickey nodded and they all watched from the shore as Svetlana marched right into the ocean, swam about a quarter of a mile out, and then started swimming parallel to the shore through choppy waves, using the freestyle swimming stroke that they guys only knew the name of from watching the Olympics through the years.

The kids distracted the men from their open mouth gawking by getting them to build a sandcastle with a moat.

After about half an hour, Svetlana got out of the water. Everyone followed her to their beach blanket and umbrella. She picked up a towel and vigorously rubbed her arms and legs dry.

“Holy sh..crap, Svetlana, I didn’t know you could swim like that,” Ian said.

“Bet if you grew up during the USSR regime they woulda sent you to one of those programs where all you did was train for the Olympics,” Mickey added.

Svetlana was leaning to the side now, rubbing the towel at the end of her hair.

“I’m lucky-they would’ve pumped me with steroids to give me shoulders and thighs like a man,” she said, not even slightly out of breath from her workout.

Mickey laughed. “Yeah, can’t imagine you ‘roided up.”

“I was meant to be dainty,” she said, giving Mickey a “I dare you to say any different” look. Mickey was smart enough not to take the challenge.

They had a great day, going through a couple of cans of sunscreen, splashing in the waves, enjoying the snacks in the cooler. They went back to the house for the hottest part of the day to eat lunch and so the boys could nap. They argued they were too old for it, but their full bellies and the soft couch under the sea breeze from the open windows lulled them to sleep for a good hour and a half.

While they slept, Mickey, Ian, and Svetlana quietly unpacked some of the boxes from Chicago. While Mickey was busy in their room with one of them, Ian brought a box of Svetlana’s down to her room and asked if she’d help him with a plan.

When the boys woke up, they all went back to the beach until it was time to go home for an early supper. The kids were tired and hungry from their day at the beach and didn’t put up a fuss when Ian said they should head back, even though it was only four o’clock. After everyone ate and the kids were playing in their room, Ian asked Mickey to go for a walk.

“A walk?” Mickey said. “What the fuck you wanna walk for?”

“I was reading on the way down here that this time of year the sunset is pretty spectacular-that the sun drops right into the ocean like a ball.”

“Oh, yeah, it does. It is pretty cool. Should we get the boys…”

“We’ll take them tomorrow. Tonight I want it to be just us.” Ian raised his eyebrows a little. “I already asked Svetlana to watch them.”

“Yeah, okay…yeah,” Mickey said. “Um, we’ll probably want to cover up a bit, the wind off the ocean can be kinda cool, especially once the sun’s gone.”

Ian wore old faded jeans and a plaid over a T shirt, and Mickey yet again blew Ian’s mind by wearing khaki pants-a fashion choice Mickey never had made back in Chicago. He also wore a tank top under a blue long sleeved shirt of some soft material. Mickey wore his huaraches and Ian wore his flip flops and they walked to the beach in the late afternoon sun. Sunset was at six twenty, and by six o’clock, when they were walking, the sun was already low in the sky, bathing everything in a warm orange glow.

When they got to the beach it was pretty much deserted, it was easy to find a place far away from the few other people scattered up and down the coastline. Ian and Mickey kicked off their sandals, the sand was still quite warm from baking in the sun all day, but Mickey had been right about the wind being cool.

The sun was a big ball out on the horizon in front of them. They were both wearing shades to look directly west. Suddenly the sun started disappearing rapidly, its last rays painting the sky a million shades of red, orange, and yellow. It seemed like only a minute later it was gone completely, as if it had dropped into the ocean. Ian and Mickey took off their shades and looked at each other in the gloaming light that was left. Suddenly everything was cool and blue, the ocean, the sky.

“That…that was so beautiful,” Ian said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s what you were trying to give me-the beach, us.”

Mickey wasn’t used to such admiration anymore-it had been a long time since he’d gotten it so regularly. He tried to deflect, since his feelings were starting to overwhelm him. “You forgot the sandals and tequila, man.”

“No, I didn’t,” Ian grinned. “We’re wearing sandals, and…” he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a hip flask.

“Thought you didn’t drink,” Mickey said.

“I don’t-and I won’t. Figure a shot for you and a sip for me wouldn’t hurt nothing,” Ian said, unscrewing the top and handing it to Mickey. “I hope it’s good-I didn’t have time to go out and buy something special, I found this in the cabinet above the fridge.”

Mickey laughed, taking the flask. “Plying me with my own booze, huh?” He tossed back a shot, Ian watching his lips pressed against the top of the flask. As soon as Mickey took it away from his mouth, Ian lunged towards him for a kiss, the tip of his tongue gently meeting Mickey’s and getting a taste of the tequila. Ian pulled away and grinned at Mickey.

“That’s your sip?” Mickey asked.

“That’s my sip,” Ian said.

“Almost made me spill this on the sand, man,” Mickey said, screwing the top of the flask back on. He looked at the flask more closely in what was left of the light. “Is this…?”

“The flask I had the night you came out?” Ian finished. “It is.”

“You kept it all this time?”

“Kept it safe. Even when I was…going through everything and thought I didn’t want to remember anything from before, I wanted to remember that night. What you said to Terry when the cops ripped you two apart was epic.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow and nodded.

Ian thought for a moment. “Hey, Mickey? Is this all too fast? Me, the kids, the house-it’s like I expected you to be an instant partner, then and now.” Maybe it was from going to therapy or maybe it was a natural part of Ian maturing or maybe it was a combination of those and other circumstances, but Ian was finally aware that Mickey might have differing points of view, different needs.

“Gallagher, are we gonna go over this every night?” Mickey groused.

“No! It’s just, I don’t know. Did you ever get the chance to be out enough? I never even asked you about your life down here, if you were seeing anyone or more than one…”

“Ian, from the day we started, it’s always been you, you’re it for me, man. I don’t want anyone else, I never really have. Have there been times I’ve had to settle for less? Sure. I’m only human and a couple of times I really thought I’d never see you again. But if you need me to state for the record I’m forsaking all fuck buddies, you’ve got it.”

“’Forsaking’? You writing your wedding vows already?” Now Ian was trying to deflect.

“Don’t need to-we’re already married,” Mickey said.

“We are?”

“Sure-back in Chicago we were ghetto married, and now we’ve stood on this beach and watched the sunset-we’re Mexico married.”

Ian’s face broke into a slow smile that started in his eyes and lips and soon took over his whole face. Mickey loved when that happened. Ian was the first person who ever loved him, all of him, who knew exactly how he was and not only didn’t turn away from it-he embraced it. And Ian was the first person Mickey let himself love that wasn’t family. Fuck yeah, they were married, and a piece of paper to prove it to anyone else just wasn’t necessary.

Mickey grinned up into Ian’s face and they kissed.

“We gotta get out of here,” Ian panted when they separated for air.

“Why?” Mickey was puzzled.

“Because we didn’t bring a blanket or lube, and if I did what I want to do to you here you’d wind up with sand in some uncomfortable places.” He took Mickey’s hand and pulled him along over the beach. Mickey helplessly and willingly followed, still quite overwhelmed by their kiss.

On the walk back Ian leaned close to Mickey’s ear and said in a low voice, “You’re very good at romance, you know.”

Mickey bumped his shoulder into Ian’s, hard, but put his hand on the small of Ian’s back so he didn’t stumble away too far.

They walked to their house, tucked in their boys, and went to sleep in their bed…eventually.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after, far far away from Shameless' writers and John Wells ;) 
> 
> I hope to do an epilogue for this one day, but I only have a few ideas jotted down and who knows where my head and heart will be after Ian's final episode this weekend, so I closed out the chapter count. But maybe one day I'll update everyone on what I think happens in this little family's life going into the future. 
> 
> As for this chapter, hopefully my readers are lucky enough to have seen the picture of Noel in Tahiti (http://koganphrancis.tumblr.com/post/147353058963/noel-in-tahiti-june-2014), that's what I based his outfit on when everyone shows up on the courtesy van from the airport. 
> 
> And to anyone who's wondering-the CD player turned itself off when it got to the end of Gloria's CD. I almost wrote Mickey turning it off before they went inside, but it broke the mood. Then I ALMOST wrote that it shut itself off, but I felt I was getting way too hung up on the CD player, LOL. 
> 
> And they sell Pop Tarts and Froot Loops in Mexico-I checked. So even in canon Mickey's able to get some of his favorite breakfast foods :)
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed this version of an endgame. Thanks for reading and special thanks to the readers who left kudos and extra special thanks to readers who comment. Long live Gallavich!

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea long before the stupid show decided to have Lip adopt on a whim. I want everyone here to know that ;) 
> 
> Right now my plan is to update weekly-I have most of the story written and it'll probably be 5 or 6 chapters-and maybe there will be an epilogue. I wanted to have the story completed before S9 began because I know that's going to knock the life out of me when it comes to trying to remember the character Ian once was, but here we are, with the show starting this weekend. Let's hope for the best but prepare for the worst, shall we? 
> 
> Anyway-comments are always appreciated! And if you know where I got the title from, extra points to you :o)


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